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BHETOEIC. 


Authorized  Edition. 


Bit. 
PREFACE. 


I  HEEE  present  the  Second  and  concluding  Part  of  my 
revised  and  enlarged  Khetoric — the  Emotional  Quali- 
ties of  Style.  So  far  as  I  know,  this  is  the  first 
attempt  at  a  methodical  and  exhaustive  account  of 
these  Quahties.  The  meagre  discussion  of  them  in 
the  original  work  is  now  replaced  by  a  more  precise 
classification  and  a  much  ampler  detail  of  examples. 
It  may  not  be  amiss,  at  the  very  outset,  to  call  the 
reader's  attention  to  the  fundamental,  and  all  but  un- 
conquerable, difficulties  that  beset  this  subject ;  namely, 
the  vague  and  indefinable  character  of  the  human 
feelings, — the  impossibility  of  stating  their  amount 
with  preciseness,  and  of  analyzing  their  composition  in  a 
convincing  manner.  These  difficulties  are  equally  felt 
by  the  methodical  rhetorician,  and  by  the  unmethodical 
critic,  who  proceeds  upon  instinct,  and  perhaps  despises 
Bhetoric.  All  alike  have  to  use  some  kind  of  emotional 
terminology  ;  the  names  for  expressing  states  of  mind, 
besides  being  more  or  less  indefinite,  must  be  hable  to 
personal  vagaries  of  interpretation.  Only  by  very  wide 
comparison  and  illustration  can  some  approach  be 
made  to  an  understood  standard,  and  to  exactness  in 
the  use  of  critical  diction. 


VI  PREFACE. 

With  a  view  to  the  most  advantageous  handling  of 
the  subject,  the  following  is  the  order  of  topics  : — 

First  is  taken  the  Classification  of  the  Emo- 
tions common  to  Poetry  with  the  other  Fine  Arts. 
Seeing  that  the  capability  of  discerning  shades  and 
varieties  of  emotion  is  not  an  early  acquirement,  the 
inference  may  justly  be  drawn,  that  their  rhetorical 
handling  is  not  suited  to  very  young  pupils.  The  dis- 
qualification is  equally  applicable  to  the  most  ordinary 
literary  criticism,  which  assumes  that  all  these  emotions 
are,  in  kind  and  degree,  familiarly  conceived  by  those  ad- 
dressed. Possibly  more  might  be  done  at  school  towards 
preparing  pupils  for  this  kind  of  study,  by  storing  their 
memories  with  passages  deliberately  chosen  to  exemplify 
various  kinds  of  poetic  effect.  Such  passages  might 
answer  the  purpose  of  instilling  unconsciously  the  signi- 
fication of  emotional  terms.  Still,  whatever  be  the 
experience  that  the  pupils  bring  with  them,  there  is  an 
obvious  advantage  in  distributing  it  under  the  heads  of 
a  classification  adapted  to  the  necessities  of  the  subject. 

The  second  topic  is  Aids  to  Emotional  Qualities 
in  general.  This  is  a  survey  of  the  most  important 
conditions  of  a  work  of  Art,  under  every  form  that 
it  may  assume.  The  conditions  are  Representative 
Force,  Concreteness  and  Objectivity,  Personification, 
Harmony,  Ideality,  Novelty  and  Variety,  Plot,  Eefine- 
tnent. 

Thirdly,  the  Qualities  themselves.  The  designa- 
tions —  Strength  or  Sublimity,  Beauty,  Feeling  or 
Pathos,  Humour,  AVit,  Melody  —  have  always  entered 
into  the  enumeration  of  Artistic  or  Poetic  qualities. 
With  the  exception  of  melody.  Feeling  is  perhaps  the 
least  ambiguous  of  all.     Most  of  the  others  are  liable 


PREFACE.  VH 


to  serious  complications,  which  stand  in  the  way  of 
anything  hke  scientific  precision  in  the  language  of 
criticism. 

1.  The  distinguishing  quality  of  Strength,  as  Subli- 
mity, Power,  Grandeur,  would  seem,  at  first  sight,  to 
be  eminently  definable  and  characteristic.  Yet  an 
examination  in  detail  discloses  this  fact,  namely,  that 
the  quality  rarely  appears  without  the  presence  of  more 
specific  emotions.  In  the  pure  form  of  manifested 
power,  irrespective  of  the  mode  of  its  employment,  its 
occurrence  is  exceptional,  and  the  impressions  made  by 
it  inconsiderable. 

At  this  point,  we  find  ourselves  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  contrasting  couple  of  generic  emotions, — on 
the  one  hand.  Love,  Tender  Feehng,  Sociabihty;  on  the 
other.  Irascibility,  Malevolence,  Antipathy, — whose  in- 
fluence in  Art,  as  in  actual  life,  is  so  commanding,  that 
prominence  must  be  given  to  them  above  all  other 
kinds  of  human  feehng,  pleasurable  or  painful.  To 
present  a  suitable  object  to  either  of  these,  is  to  make 
certain  of  a  warm  response  in  almost  every  bosom. 
To  exclude  them  wholly  from  a  work  of  Art,  though 
not  impossible,  is  difiicult  and  rarely  attempted.  In 
their  absence,  what  might  seem  the  happiest  com- 
binations are  comparatively  sterile.  Almost  the  only 
thing  that  could  atone  for  the  deficiency  would  be  some 
signal  triumph  of  Melody. 

As  regards  Tender  Feeling,  under  all  its  various 
aspects,  the  course  is  clear.  In  it  we  are  provided 
with  one  unmistakable  division  of  the  subject.  The 
•  case  is  different  with  the  Irascible  or  Malign  Emotion. 
For  reasons  that  can  be  justified  only  by  the  result,  it 
is  coupled  with  Strength — the  first  of  the  Qualities  to 


Vin  PEEFACE. 

be  taken  up.  It  is  not  exhausted  there,  but  reappears 
in  a  modified  form,  under  vituperative  style — a  later 
group,  in  which  are  included  the  Ludicrous  and 
Humour. 

I  am  fully  conscious  of  the  intense  repugnance  to 
be  encountered  in  referring  so  much  of  the  charm  of 
literary  works  to  the  pleasure  of  malevolence.  How- 
ever readily  this  pleasure  may  be  admitted  as  one  of 
the  incidents  of  hmnan  corruption,  there  is  a  tendency 
to  deny  its  existence  when  it  is  expressed  in  unfamiliar 
phraseology.  Nevertheless,  I  have  done  my  utmost  to 
deal  fairly  with  the  facts  as  I  find  them.  In  order  to 
develop  the  literary  bearings  of  Strength,  the  quality 
is  set  forth  as  having  three  forms — Maleficent,  Benefi- 
cent, and  Neutral,  —  every  one  of  which  admits  of 
copious  exemplification. 

2.  This  exhausts  the  first  comprehensive  Emotional 
Quality.  The  second.  Feeling,  needs  and  admits  a 
still  greater  expansion.  Its  numerous  varieties — Love 
(Erotic  and  Parental),  Friendship,  Patriotism,  Com- 
passion in  general,  Eeligion,  Personified  Feehng,  Sorrow 
or  Pathos — have  to  be  surveyed  and  exemplified  in  full 
detail. 

3.  Next  comes  the  group  of  Qualities  centering  in 
the  Ludicrous.  To  be  complete,  they  are  extended 
in  sweep  so  as  to  comprise  Vituperation,  Eidicule 
and  Humour.  This  is  the  second  reference  to  the 
Malevolent  side  of  our  nature,  and  involves  a  certain 
amount  of  speculative  controversy,  as  well  as  practical 
interest. 

4.  Wit  is  sufficiently  distinctive  to  need  a  separate 
handling ;  while,  owing  to  the  extent  and  intimacy  of 
its  concurrence  with  the  preceding  group  of  qualities, 


PEEFACB.  IX 

its  illustration  serves  to  provide  additional  examples 
of  these. 

5.  Melody  is  a  potent  factor  in  prose,  and  still  more 
in  poetry.  Some  of  its  laws  are  remarkably  simple,  and 
easy  in  their  application  :  such  as  the  proper  succession 
of  the  letters  in  words,  and  of  words  in  clauses,  having 
reference  to  ease  of  pronunciation  and  variety  of  sound. 
The  Harmony  of  Sound  and  Sense  is  less  definite,  al- 
though to  some  extent  governed  by  rules,  and  amenable 
to  the  cultivated  ear.  Most  difficult  of  all  is  the  theory 
of  Metres.  When  we  pass  beyond  their  analysis  into 
technical  constituents,  and  enquire  into  the  laws  of 
their  adaptation  and  effect,  we  enter  on  a  region  where 
scientific  principles  soon  come  to  a  standstill.  The 
topic  needs  a  special  monograph,  with  profuse  citations 
from  all  the  great  exemplars  of  the  metrical  art. 

6.  The  enumeration  now  given  covers  the  largest  por- 
tion of  the  field  of  poetic  art,  or  emotional  literature, 
and  carries  with  it  nearly  every  rhetorical  prescription 
of  special  value.  Yet  there  still  remains  a  region  of 
effects  not  fully  accounted  for.  Whatever  is  comprised 
in  the  versatile  word  Beauty  has  been  overtaken, 
partly  under  Aids  to  Qualities,  and  partly  under  Feeling. 
But  it  deserves  to  be  noted  that  the  Senses,  by  them- 
selves, yield  a  number  of  ideal  constructions,  highly 
stimulating,  although  inferior  in  that  respect  to  the 
influence  of  the  chief  emotions.  Not  often  is  this 
class  of  effects  sought  in  purity ;  yet  they  may  become 
the  prominent  members  of  combinations  with  the 
others.  The  Hilarious  and  the  Healthy,  as  manifesta- 
tions of  human  feeling,  have  a  character  and  a  law  to 
themselves,  and  have  been  represented  in  the  poetry 
of  all  ages.     Again,  Utility  can  hardly  be  divorced 


X  PEEFACE. 

from  the  special  emotions,  but,  as  a  collective  statement 
of  all  that  is  valuable  in  the  eyes  of  mankind,  it  stands 
to  a  certain  degree  remote  from  any  one  interest,  and 
is  not  governed  by  the  special  peculiarities  of  the 
primary  modes  of  feeling.  More  peculiar  still  is  the 
effect  called  Imitation,  which  readily  lends  itself  to 
furthering  the  special  qualities,  but  has  j^et  an  in- 
dependent charm,  which  can  be  evoked  with  little 
or  no  reference  to  anything  else.  The  most  extensive 
literary  developments  of  Imitative  art  occur  in  the 
realistic  variety  of  Prose  Fiction,  and  are  too  bulky  to 
be  produced  even  in  the  smallest  specimens  that  would 
be  of  service.  All  that  can  be  attempted  is  a  bare 
analysis  of  the  quality,  with  a  very  general  reference  to 
examples. 

I  do  not  here  enter  on  a  defence  of  the  utility  of 
Pihetoric  in  general,  though  many  persons  are  still 
disposed  to  question  it.  Since  the  art  first  took  form 
in  Greece,  it  has  seldom  been  neglected  by  writers 
aiming  at  superior  excellence  of  style.  In  order  to 
vanquish  the  difficulties  of  the  highest  composition,  it 
is  necessary  to  attack  them  on  every  side.  Milton 
refers,  with  evident  familiarity  and  approbation,  to  six 
of  the  remaining  works  of  Greek  Rhetoric.  When 
Shelley,  in  describing  his  poetical  education,  names  as 
one  of  his  studies  the  '  metaphysical '  writers,  we  may 
presume  that  he  would  take  along  with  these,  if  not 
include  under  them,  the  modern  expounders  of  Ehe- 
torical  theory  and  practice. 

The  direct  bearing  of  the  Rhetorical  art  is,  of 
course,  not  Invention,  but  CoiTcctness;  in  other  words, 
polish,  elegance,  or  refinement.     It  deals  with  curable 


PBEFACB. 


defects  and  faults,  and  with  sucla  merits  as  can  be  secured 
by  method.  It  aids,  without  superseding,  the  intuitive 
perception  of  what  is  excellent  in  a  literary  performance. 
There  is  not  wanting,  however,  a  possibility  of 
rendering  assistance  to  invention  proper ;  somewhat 
similar  to  the  indirect  contribution  of  Logic  to  the  Art 
of  Discovery.  All  right  criticism,  in  helping  to  reject 
the  bad,  urges  to  renewed  search  for  the  good.  Nor 
is  this  all.  By  taking  a  broad  and  systematic  view  of 
the  possibilities  of  style,  Bhetoric  prevents  the  available 
means  of  effect  from  being  overlooked,  and  draws  atten- 
tion to  still  unoccupied  corners  in  the  literary  field. 

Next  to  the  minute  and  methodical  treatment  of 
the  Emotional  Qualities,  the  chief  peculiarity  of  the 
present  work  is  the  line-by-line  method  of  examining 
passages  with  a  view  to  assigning  merits  and  defects. 
This,  however,  is  not  a  new  thing  in  literary  criticism. 
It  is  occasionally  practised  by  all  rhetorical  teachers  ; 
being  found  in  Aristotle  and  in  Longinus.  Ben 
Jonson,  in  his  celebrated  eulogy  of  Shakespeare,  wishes 
he  had  "  blotted  a  thousand  "  hnes.  How  thankful 
should  we  be  if  he  had  quoted  a  number  of  these  ! 
It  was  Samuel  Johnson's  sturdy  overhauling  of  English 
Writers,  in  the  Lives  of  the  Poets,  that  first  made  the 
world  familiar  with  the  lessons  of  minute  criticism. 
In  his  Dryden  and  Pope,  there  is  a  line-by-line  com- 
mentary of  many  pages.  Similar  criticisms  occur  under 
Denham,  Waller,  Addison,  Shenstone,  Young  and  Gray. 
The  controversy  between  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth,  on 
the  diction  of  poetry,  led  incidentally  to  many  valuable 
applications  of  the  line-by-line  and  word-by- w^ord  ana- 
lysis.     Leigh  Hunt,  in   his   admirable    critical  selec- 


PREFACE. 


tions,  Wit  and  Humour  and  Imagination  and  Fanaj, 
abounds  in  the  same  usage.  Pattison's  Notes  on  Pope 
are  models  of  instructive  criticism.  All  our  great  critics 
provide  occasional  snatches  of  this  minute  style. 

For  pupils,  the  method  would  seem  indispensable,  in 
order  both  to  arrest  attention  and  to  provide  an 
exercise  for  judgment.  Of  course  a  work  of  art  is  a 
whole,  and  one  chief  test  of  any  particular  passage  is 
its  fitness  relative  to  the  general  design.  Still,  the 
merits  of  an  entire  composition  are  the  cumulated 
merits  of  the  successive  lines  and  sentences.  A  whole 
cannot  be  criticised  without  reference  to  its  component 
parts. 

It  is  still  an  open  question,  how  far  criticism  can  be 
made  a  matter  of  science,  and  how  far  it  must  continue 
to  depend  on  unreasoning  instinct.  That  there  will 
always  be  an  inexplicable  residuum  of  literary  effects 
does  not  invalidate  the  worth  of  whatever  amount  of 
explanation  is  attained  or  attainable.  This  will  have 
to  be  judged  on  its  own  account,  and  with  reference  to 
the  actual  help  that  it  affords  to  the  literary  student. 

It  is  inevitable  that,  in  a  work  containing  some 
hundreds  of  critical  decisions  on  the  merits  of  the 
greatest  authors  that  the  world  has  seen,  many  of  these 
decisions  will  be  charged  with  blundering,  presumption, 
and  temerity.  There  is  but  one  reply  to  the  charge. 
The  success  of  such  an  undertaking  does  not  depend 
upon  its  immaculate  literary  opinions  ;  its  sole  con- 
cern is  with  the  teacher's  greatest  difficulty,  to  bring 
into  play  the  judgment  of  his  pupils.  Many  of  John- 
son's deliverances,  on  the  merits  of  Dryden,  Pope,  and 
the  rest,  were  hasty,  insufficient  and  prejudiced;  but 
they  are  scarcely  less  useful  on  that  account,  for  stimu- 


PREFACE.  Xlll 

lating  the  reader's  judgment  by  exposing  alternative 
opinions  for  comparison.  Coleridge  is  loud  in  praise 
of  the  permanent  good  that  he  received  from  his  master 
Bowyer ;  yet  the  examples  of  Bowyer's  teaching  prove 
that  he  must  have  been  frequently  extravagant  and 
wrong-headed  in  his  denunciation  of  the  faults  of  poets. 
I  cannot  affirm  that  the  literary  judgments  passed 
upon  exemplary  passages  are,  on  every  occasion,  the 
clear  and  unbiassed  application  of  some  guiding  maxim. 
There  must,  no  doubt,  be  cases  where  feeling  or  intuition 
enters  into  the  judgments  expressed.  All  I  can  say  is, 
that  I  should  have  entirely  mistrusted  the  methods  I 
have  followed,  if  the  conclusions  had  been  often  at 
variance  with  the  general  consent  of  the  best  critical 
authorities  in  all  ages. 

No  one  can  be  more  conscious  than  I  am  of  the 
limits  to  a  scientific  explanation  of  the  emotional  effect 
of  any  given  composition.  The  merits  are  often  so 
shadowy,  so  numerous  and  conflicting,  that  their 
minute  analysis  fails  to  give  a  result.  The  attempt  to 
sum  up  the  influence  of  a  combination  of  words,  whose 
separate  emotional  meanings  are  vague  and  incalculable, 
must  often  be  nugatory  and  devoid  of  all  purpose. 
Yet  we  must  not  forget  that  the  intuitive  critic  really 
does  all  this,  without  avowing  it ;  while  to  reduce  the 
steps  to  articulate  enumeration  would  not  necessarily 
make  a  worse  decision.  Besides,  criticism  has  long 
attained  the  point  where  reasons  can  be  given  for  a  very 
wide  range  of  literary  effects ;  and  Rhetoric  is  but  the 
arranging  and  methodizing  of  these  reasons. 

Still  more  stringent  are  the  limitations  to  the 
nature   of  the  analyses  that  can  with  profit  be  sub- 


XIV  PREFACE. 

mitted  to  pupils  entering  upon  the  work  of  criticism. 
To  be  too  elaborate  or  nice  is  to  elude  their  powers  of 
judging,  and  to  incur  the  prevailing  vice  of  literary 
teaching — memory  cram.  It  is  only  a  person  of  con- 
siderable reading  that  can  decide,  for  example,  as  to  the 
originality  of  a  given  poetical  combination  ;  such  a 
matter  must  be  pronounced  upon  ex  cathedra.  Exercises 
have  to  be  chosen  and  adapted  to  the  state  of  advance- 
ment and  powers  of  the  pupils  ;  so  that  their  discrimi- 
nation may  be  brought  to  a  genuine  test.  Although  it 
is  desirable  to  meet  all  the  points  of  difficulty  in  any 
given  passage,  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are  all  at 
the  level  of  a  given  stage  of  teaching.  Some  may  be 
skipped  for  a  time,  or  explained  provisionally.  The 
least  useful  examples  are  those  where  neither  merits 
nor  defects  are  of  a  pronounced  character.  Many 
excellent  writers  are  of  this  kind.  It  is  difficult  to 
work  an  exegetical  commentary  on  Landor ;  while 
comparatively  easy  on  De  Quincey  and  Macaulay. 

To  such  as  take  umbrage  at  the  operation  of  anato- 
mizing (as  it  is  called)  the  finest  products  of  poetic 
genius,  I  can  offer  no  apology  that  will  be  deemed 
sufficient.  But  it  ought  to  be  remembered,  that  a  work 
of  genius  may  be  sufficiently  impressive  and  interesting, 
grand  or  beautiful,  as  a  whole,  and  yet  contain  here  and 
there  minute  defects  such  as  the  ordinary  writer  should 
be  warned  against.  No  writer  is  faultless  ;  and  the 
exhibition  of  faults  may  be  so  conducted  as  to  reflect  a 
stronger  light  upon  the  merits. 

Although  it  is  hoped  that  the  handhng  thus  be- 
stowed on  the  Emotional  Qualities  may  not  be  alto- 
gether devoid  of  suggestiveness  to  advanced  English 


PBEFACE. 


scholars,  there  is  necessarily  much  that  to  them  will 
appear  superfluous  and  elementary.  This  is  no  dis- 
advantage, but  the  contrary,  to  the  younger  students, 
provided  only  the  exposition  is  such  as  to  impart  in  a 
lucid  and  compendious  form  the  terminology  and  the 
regulating  maxims  of  the  qualities  referred  to. 

The  method  of  criticism  herein  sketched  involves, 
as  part  of  its  essence,  the  separation  of  the  subject  of 
a  composition  and  its  treatment.  It  is  the  province  of 
Ehetoric  to  deal  primarily  with  the  form  alone.  It 
thereby  isolates  the  matter,  which  it  views  only  with 
reference  to  its  capability  of  receiving  form. 

The  utmost  ingenuity  in  packing  a  mere  Text-book 
must  leave  a  great  deal  to  be  done  over  so  wide  a 
field,  even  in  the  enunciation  of  generalities.  The  two 
volumes  that  now  represent  the  original  work  have  not 
fully  overtaken  all  the  matters  therein  sketched.  Many 
important  niceties  of  style  adverted  to  under  the  Kinds 
of  Composition  might  still  be  expanded  into  a  Thied 
Part.  This,  however,  my  years,  and  the  demands 
upon  me  in  another  walk,  forbid  my  contemplating. 

Many  topics  manifestly  included  in  a  science  of 
Bhetoric  are  of  a  kind  to  demand  special  monographs 
for  doing  them  justice.  Metre  has  been  already  men- 
tioned. Epic,  Dramatic  and  Lyric  Poetry,  when  entire 
compositions  are  taken  into  view,  need  an  expanded 
and  separate  treatment,  although  the  principles  in- 
volved are  no  other  than  the  present  work  undertakes 
to  set  forth.  The  Drama,  for  example,  requires  a  work 
to  itself,  based  on  a  wide  survey  of  the  actual  examples. 
Prose  Fiction,  in  like  manner,  is  a  vast  subject,  even 
standing  alone.     The  citation  of  illustrative  passages, 


XVI  PREFACE. 

indispensable  to  the  elucidation  of  these  themes,  makes 
their  treatment  necessarily  voluminous.  Nevertheless, 
as  regards  the  best  order  of  study  for  pupils  in  Litera- 
ture, all  these  subjects  are  subsequent  to  the  handling 
of  Khetoric,  as  exemplified  in  the  work  now  submitted 
to  the  public. 

Abeedeen,  May,  18S8, 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


Designations  of  Emotional  Qualities  :   Examples  of  the  Critical 

Vocabulary,    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  1 

AET  EMOTIONS  CLASSIFIED. 

1,  The  Feelings  of  the  human  mind  are  characterized  by  Pleasi^re, 

Pain  or  Neutrality,    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ..  3 

2.  Pleasures  and  Pains  divided  under  Sen.sations  and  Emotions. 

The  artistic  senses  are  Sight  and  Hearing,            ...         ...  ib. 

8.  Objects  of  Sight  enter  into  Poetry  by  verbal  suggestion,          ...  4 

4.  The  Emotions  have  numerous  artistic  bearings, ...         ...         ...  ih. 

5.  The  Art   Emotions  have  reference  to  still   deeper  sources  of 

emotion,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  5 

6.  Pro-eminence    given    to    the   contrasting    couple — Love  and 

Malevolence,  ib. 

7.  Place  of  the  Emotion  of  Fear,      ib. 

8.  Literary  Art  embraces  various  feelings  coming  under  the  com- 

prehensive term  Egotism,    ...         ...         ...  6 

9.  Importance  attached  to  Sympathy  in  the  artistic  point  of  view,  7 

10.  Pleasure  of  discovering  Unity  in  Multitude,      8 

11.  Interest  of  Plot  allied  with  our  Activity,           ...         ib. 

12.  Eelation  of  the  U.seful  and  the  Beautiful,         ib. 

13.  Admission  of  agreeable  experiences  generally  when  purged  of 

gro.ssness,         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  9 

14.  Special  Pleasure  of  Imitation,     ...         ib. 

15.  Interest  arising  from  Associations,  ib. 

AIDS  TO  EMOTIONAL  QUALITIES. 

Common  end — the  evoking  of  Emotion  of  the  plea.surable  kind. 

Aids  and  precautions  applicable  throughout,        11 

1 


XVm  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

KEPEE  SENT  ATI  VE  VOCABULAEY. 

1.  Comprehensive  requirement  of  REriiESENTATiVE  Force  in  the 

Language.     Names  classified  with  this  view,        ...         ...         11 

2.  Language  helped  out  by  extraneous  circumstances  : — (1)  Causes 

or  Occasions  of  Feeling  ;  (2)  Conduct  that  follows  ;  (3) 
effect  on  Belief  ;  (4)  influence  on  the  Thoughts  ;  (5)  sub- 
mergence of  Opposing  States  ;  (6)  Comparisons.  ...         13 

3.  Bearings  of  Suggestiveness,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         15 

4.  Existence  of  a  select  Poetic  Diction,         ...         ...         ...         ...         ib. 

CONCEETENESS  AND  OBJECTIVITY. 

1.  Importance  attached  to  Concreteness,  ...         ...         17 

2.  Superiority  of  Objective  phraseology, ib. 

3.  Treatment  for  promoting  Concreteness  and  Objectivity,           ...  18 

4.  Requisite  of  Accumulation  and  Combination  of  ideas  and  images,  1 9 

PEESONIFICATION. 

1.  Meaning  and  Scope  of  Personification,  21 

2.  First  condition — the  stimulus  of  a  leading  emotion,     ...         ...  23 

3.  Second — a  sufficient  amount  of  resemblance,      ...  ..         ...  25 

4.  Third — a  measured  comparison  with  human  might,     ...         ...  ib. 

5.  Fourth — succession  to  a  climax,    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  26 

6.  Two  degrees  of  Personification.     L  Ascription  of  feelings,  will 

and  distinction  of  gender,    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ib. 

7.  Personifying  of  Abstractions,         ...  ...         ...         ...         ...         27 

8.  IL  Attributing  a  quality  of  life, 29 

HAEMONY. 

1.  The  most  imperative  and  all-pervading  condition  of  a  work  of 

Fine  Art,  30 

2.  Compatible  and  incompatible  Emotions.     Adjustment  of  nice 

emotional  meanings,...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         31 

3.  Painful  and  repugnant  subjects  either  alleviated  or  aggravated 

by  adjustment  of  harmonies, ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         33 

4.  Harmony  comprehends  Unity  in  multitude,      ...         ...         ...         34 

Examples  of  Harmony  and  Discord. 

Example  from  Coleridge  ;  Milton's  Hymn  on  the  Nativity, 
and  Lycidas  ;  Shakespeare's  dramatic  background  of 
nature  in  harmony  with  his  incidents  ;  the  Greek  poets ; 
Tennyson  ;  Gray,       ...         ...         ...         ...         35 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


IDEALITY. 

1.  Meaning  and  purpose  of  Ideality.     Leading  examples  of  its 

employment,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         .■■         ...  36 

2.  Two  forms  : — (1)  actual  experience  improved  upon  ;  (2)  delinea- 

tions out  of  all  respect  to  actuality,            ...         ...         ...  38 

3.  Conditions  requisite  : — I.  The  emotions  appealed  to  must  be 

powerful;  II.  The  manner  of  appeal  must  be  adequate, .. .  39 

4.  Limitations  imposed  by  the  consideration  of  Truth,      ...         ...  40 

5.  Influence  of  distance,  obscurity  and  mystery,     ...         ...         ...  41 

6.  Abnegnation  of  the   Ideal  in  favour  of  the  Realistic  in  Art. 

Imitation,        ... ...  42 

NOVELTY. 

1.  Novelty   embraces    Variety  and    Proportional   presentation. 

The  highest  form  is  Originality, 43 

2.  Qualified  by  the  other  conditions  of  style,         ...         ...         ...  ih. 

3.  Variety  second  to  absolute  originality,     ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

4.  Variety  in  Melody  and  Metre,       ...         ...         ...  44 

5.  Rhetorical  varying  of  Words,         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ih. 

6.  Varying  the  length  and  structure  of  Sentences, ...         ...         ...  45 

7.  Alternation  in  the  use  of  Figures, ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

8.  Varying  the  Interest  as  a  Whole, ib. 

ACTION  AND  PLOT. 

1.  Feeling  of  s?<s/>c/isc,  called  the  interest  of  Plot, 46 

2.  Leading  conditions  of  its  effectiveness, ...  ib. 

EEFINEMENT. 

1.  Grossness  of  animal  passions  converted  into  Refined  Pleasure,  47 

2.  Review  of  methods  already  adduced,        48 

3.  Additional  arts,        ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

4.  Fear  operative  as  pleasure  by  reaction,    ...         49 

CHAEACTEKS. 

1.  Interest  of  Character,     50 

2.  Consistency  of  development,          ib. 

3.  Choice  of  Characters  very  wide,  but  still  conditional,   ...         ...  ib. 

SUBJECTS. 

In  Art  compositions,    something  depends    on   the   Subject. 

There  are  both  aiding  and  impeding  subjects 52 


XX  TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


NATURE  AS  A   SUBJECT. 
Successive  forms  and  stages  of  Nature  interest, 53 

STEENGTH. 

Strength  as  nearly  synonymous  with  Sublimity.  Eesolved 
into  the  manifestation  of  superior  might.  Order  of 
treatment,       55 

SUBJECTS  OF  STEENGTH. 

1.  Divided  into  Personal  and  Impersonal, 56 

PERSONAL  PHYSICAL  STEENGTH. 

2.  The   interest  in  Persons  is  in  part  Physical.      This   largely 

evoked  in  poetic  art, .. .         ib. 

MORAL  STEENGTH. 

3.  Strength  as  shown  iu  the  Feelings  and  the  Will.     Meaning  of 

Passion,  58 

INTELLECTUAL  STRENGTH. 

4.  Various  forms  of  Intellectual  superiority.     Eulogies  of  men  of 

genius.     Pope's  '  Temple  of  Fame,'  60 

INTELLECTUAL  AND  MORAL  STRENGTH  COMBINED. 

5.  Great  Leaders.    Ulysses.    Mythical  Heroes.   Collective  Strength 

makes    the   strength  of  Kings,  Generals  and  Heads   of 
Parties,  61 

IMPERSONAL  STEENGTH. 

6.  The  Inanimate  world  furnishes  objects  of  Sublimity, 62 

CONSTITUENTS  OF  STEENGTH. 

1.  Strength  a  Complex  quality.      It  varies  according  to  its  ex- 

traneous emotional  accompaniments,         63 

MALEFICENT  STEENGTH. 

2.  The  Infliction  of  Suffering  a  source  of  pleasure,  under  the  check 

of  sympathy.     Special  illustrative  case — the  interest  in 

War  or  Conflict,         64 


TABLE    OP   CONTENTS,  XXI 

PAGE 

BENEFICENT  STEENGTH. 
3.  Power    exercised    for    Beneficent    ends.      Poetical    handling 

exemplified,    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...        65 

NEUTEAL  STEENGTH. 

4. Power    viewed  apart  from  its  maleficent  and  beneficent  results. 

Cases  where  this  is  realized, ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         68 

VOCABULAEY  OF  STEENGTH. 

Language   contributes    to   Strength   (1)    by   representing    the 

objects,  (2)  by  emotional  associations,        70 

EEVIEW  OF  THE  VOCABULAEY  OF  STEENGTH. 

I. — Names  of  Subjects  oe  Classes. 

Exemplification  of  Names  of  Subjects,  as  divided  into  Physical, 

Moral,  Intellectual,  Collective,        71 

II. — Names  of  Constituents. 

MALEFICENT  STRENGTH. 
Pure  Maleficence.    Righteous  Indignation.    Destructive  Energy. 

"War  and  Conflict.     Terror-inspiring,         72 

BENEFICENT  STRENGTH. 

Names  for  the  powers  of  Creation,  Picservation,  Sustentation 

&c.,      73 

NEUTRAL  STRENGTH. 
Power  with  Possibility  : — Inanimate  World ;  Artificial  Struc- 
tures.   Abstract  Names.   Negative  and  Numerical  Names,        ib. 

CONDITIONS  OF  STEENGTH. 

1.  Conditions  common  to  Strength  in  all  its  forms,        75 

2.  Faults  and  failures  to  be  guarded  against,  76 

STEENGTH  EXEMPLIFIED. 

Order  of  Constituents  to  be  followed,  in  preference  to  Classes,        77 
MALEFICENT  STEENGTH. 

Malignity  Pure  and  Simple. 

In  all  Literature,  a  place  allowed  to  the  interest  of  Malignity, 

more  or  less  disguised.     Pretext  of  Retribution, ih. 


XXU  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 

PAOK 

Homer.     Crock  Trngecly  and  Comedy,     ...         ...  78 

Illustration  from  the  glorification  of  tlic  Principle  of  Evil : — 

Paradise  Lost ;  Dante's /^i/trno ;  Goethe's  i^rtws^,  ...  79 

The  Successful  Usurper  : — Tamburlaine, ...         ...         ...         ...  82 

Shakespeare's  Tragedies,     ...         ...         ...         ...         84 

Strength  in  Combat. 

The  Artistic  handling  of  a  Combat  supposes  (1)  the  conditions 

of  Maleficent  Strength,  and  (2)  tire  laws  that  regulate  a 

Plot, ih. 

Cases  of  Combat  suited  to  impart  interest.     The  single  combat. 

Combats  in  the  Iliad,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...        ib. 

Example's  in  the   Odyssey.      Virgil's  management.      Modern 

chivalry: — Spenser.     Shakespeare.     Milton.     Gray,      ...         86 
Detailed  examination  of  Scott's  combat  between  Fitz-James  and 

Roderick  Dhu,  87 

Tennyson.      Matthew   Arnold.      Conflicts   of    Armii.'s.      The 

Tournament.     The  Chase.     Games  of  strength  and  skill. 

War  of  words,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...        90 

BENEFICENT   STRENGTH. 
Beneficence  touches  on  Tender  Feeling.      Its  broader  workings 

point  to  general  utility.      Under  it  fall  the  eulogies  of 

civilizers  and  liberators,        ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         92 

Pope  on  the  primitive  Patriarch.      Shelley  on  the  power  of 

speech.    Carlyle's  ZTcrocs.    Wordsworth's  'Grace  Darling'. 

Cowper's    '  Chatham '.      Do    Quinccy   on    Shakespeare's 

■Nvork   and    influence.       Chalmers's   eulogy   on   Newton. 

Goldsmith's  'Preacher,'       ...         ...         ib. 

NEUTRAL  STRENGTH. 

Sphere  of  Neuteal  Strength,  the  Vast  and  Majestic,  aided 

by  the  Mysterious  and  Illimitable, 98 

The  special  emotions  veiled  rather  than  excluded,         99 

Examples  of  Strcngtli  in  Character  with  the  nearest  apjjroach 
to  purity : — Wordsworth's  Milton,  Chatterton,  and 
Burns.     Hamlet's  picture  of  his  father, H. 

Nature  presents  the  chief  examples  of  nearly  Neutral  Strength, 
as  Sublimity.  The  Celestial  Universe: — Dante,  Milton, 
Pope,  Prologue  to  FrtW5<,       ...         ...         ...       100 

Sublimity  of  Time  : — Chalmers  on  Eternity  ;  Shelley.  His- 
torical Time  in  'Locksley  Hall,'      102 

Terrestrial  amplitudes,  masses  and  moving  powei-s,       104 


TABLE    OP   CONTENTS.  XXIII 


PEOMISCUOUS  PASSAGES. 


PAGE 


Passage  from  *  Lear ' — Destructive  energy,          ...         ...         ...  105 

Storm  ill  'Julius  Csesar'.     Comparison  with  Byron's  'Storm  in 

the  Alps.' — Nature  symbolism,       ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

Pas.sage  in  Shelley's  '  Prometheus  Unbound,'      ...         ...         ...  107 

Campbell's  '  Launch  of  a  ship  of  war,'       ..          ...          ...          ...  108 

The  Ocean  : — Byron  ;    Barry  Cornwall ;    Allan   Cunningham  ; 

Wilson,            109 

Wordsworth's  '  Ode  to  Duty,'— the  Moral  Sublime,      113 

Byron's  'Loch  na  Garr,'— viewed  in  contrast  with  the  poet's 

mature   genius,           ...         ...         ...         ...         115 

Keats's  Hyperion  in  his  palace,     ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  116 

Sonnet  of  Wordswortb, — exemiilifying  Elevation  of  Thought, 

Objectivity  and  Concreteness,          ...         ...         ...         ...  118 

FEELING. 

Variety  of  designations  for  the  Amicable  side  of  our  nature,    ...       119 

SUBJECTS   CLASSIFIED. 

THE  DOMESTIC  GROUP. 

1.  Inclusion  of  the  Sexual,  Parental,  Filial  and  Fraternal  relation- 

ships,          ...         ...         ...        ib. 

FEIENDSHIP. 

2.  Attachment  between  persons  not  of  the  same  family,   ...         ...       120 

CO-PATRIOTISM. 

3.  Sentiment  between  members  of  the  same  .society, — more  or  less 

complex,  ...         ...         ...         ...         .  .         ...         ...        ii. 

BENEVOLENT  INTEREST. 

4.  Pity,  protectorship,  philanthropy.     Tender  Emotion,  as.sibted 

by  Sympathy,  ib. 

RELIGION. 

5.  The  purest  type  of  Religion  largely  involves  Tenderness,        ...       121 

TENDERNESS  PERSONIFIED. 

6.  The  Nature  Interest  gi'ounded  on  Tenderness,  one  application 

of  what  is  commonly  meant  by  Beauty,    ...         ...         ...         ib. 


XXIV  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

SOEEOW-PATHOS. 

7.  Explicable  as  Pain  partly  or  wholly  assuaged  by  the  Tender 

outburst,         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...       121 

CONSTITUENTS  OF  TENDEENESS. 

1.  The  Three  Instinctive  foundations  of  the  Tender  Feelings,      ...       122 

LOVE  OF  THE  SEXES. 

2.  First  ingredient — Animal  Passion,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ih.' 

3.  Second  ingredient — Physical  Attraction,...         ...         ...         ...         ib 

4.  Third  ingredient — Mental  Attraction,  of  which  the  chief  mode 

is  Reciprocal  liking,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...       12-3 

5.  Reciprocation  a  pervnding  element  of  the  tender  relationsliii)s. 

Gratitude,       ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ib. 

6.  Other  forms  of  excellence  calculated  to  awaken  love,    ...         ...       124 

PAEENTAL  FEELING. 

7.  Typical  and  primitive  form  of  the  instinct,  the  maternal  and 

paternal  feelings.  The  probable  origin  of  pity  and  }iro- 
tectorship  generally.  Contribution  to  the  love  of  the 
sexes,    ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...         ib. 

8.  The  reciprocal  feeling  of  child  to  parent  has  no  supporting 

instinct,  being  a  case  of  Gratitude  and  habituation,        ...       125 

9.  Fraternal  feeling  eciually  devoid  of  instinctive  basis,     ...         ...       126 

10.  Friendship,  when  grounded  on  personal  fascination,  may  rank 

second  to  the  feeling  between  the  sexes,     ...         ...         ...         ib. 

GEEGAEIOUSNESS. 

11.  The  general  Sociability  of  mankind  a  distinct  source  of  interest, 

seen  in  the  Sympathy  of  Numbers,  ...         ...         ...        ib. 

VOCABULAEY  OF  FEELING. 

Names  for  Subjects  : — Domestic  group  ;  Friendship  ;  Co-patriot- 
ism ;  Collective  Numbers ;  Benevolent  Interest ;  Religion  ; 
Patlios  and  Sorrow,    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...       127 

Names  for  Qualities  and  Constituents  : — Pervading  Names ; 
Names  more  special  to  the  Sexes  ;  Comjiassion  ;  Pains 
awakening  Tenderness  ;  Pleasures  allied  to  the  generic 
feeling  ;  Beaut)' ;  Virtues  inspiring  Tenderness  ;  Religious 
aspects;  Pathos  of  Time,      ...         ...         128 

Antipathetic  Vocabulary,   ...         ...         129 

Names  for  associated  objects  and  circumstances,  ...         ...         ib. 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS.  XXV 

PAGE 

CONDITIONS  OF  FEELING. 

1.  Conditions  especially  applicable  to  the  Quality  of  Feeling,      ...       130 

2.  Conditions  farther  illustrated  by  the  faults  most  liable  to  be 

incurred,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         •••         •••       131 

FEELING  EXEMPLIFIED. 

Exemplification  to  follow  the  order  of  the  Classes  or  Subjects,       132 

EEOTIC  LITEEATUEE. 

General  conditions  of  Tender  Feeling  modified  for  the  class  of 
Erotic  compositions,  (1)  Description  of  the  object ;  (2) 
Harmonious  surroundings  ;  (3)  Expressed  feelings  of  the 

lover  ;  (4)  Interest  of  Plot, ib. 

Ancient  Erotic  Literature  (Greek)  : — Iliad  and  Odyssey ;  Lyric 
Poets — Sappho,  Anacreou  ;  Tragedians  ;  Idyllists ;  An- 
thology— Meleager,     ...         ..  ...         ...         ib. 

Erotic  Poetry  (Latin) : — Catullus,  TibuUus,  Propertius,  Ovid, 

Virgil's  Love  Scenes  in  the  ^')(cuf,  Horace,  ...         ...       138 

Famous  poem  of  Musajus — Hero  and  Leander, 140 

Modern  Erotic  Literature — Chivalry  ;  Italian  Poets  ;  Chaucer,        141 

Shakespeare — the  garden  scene  in  liomco  and  Juliet,    142 

Select  illustrative  examples  :— The  Ode  of  Anacreon  desciiptive 
of  a  feminine  beauty — Moore's  translation  compared  with 

the  original, 145 

Suckling's  Bride, 147 

Wordsworth's  Lyric — '  She  was  a  Phantom  of  Delight,'  ...       149 

The    lover's    feelings    more    expressly    set  forth — Tennyson's 

'  Gardener's  Daughter,'         ...         151 

Painful  phase  of  the  love  passion  exemplified  in  Pope's  '  Epistle 

of  Eloisa  to  Abelard,' 154 

&coit'sWL\eu  in  Tlic  Lady  of  the  Lake,     155 

Matthew  Arnold's  poem  entitled  '  Switzerland,'  156 

Love  poetry  of  Burns,  as  exemplifying  all  the  known  arts  of 

erotic  delineation,      ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...       157 

Browning's  '  Two  in  the  Campagna  '.    Treatment  of  unrequited 

love,      160 

George  Eliot's  '  Hetty  Sorrel '.     Beauty  of  a  woman's  arm — 

Maggie  Tulliver,         161 

Conjugal  Love  : — Milton's  Picture  of  our  First  Parents,         ...       163 


XXVI  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

R\RENTAL  FEELING. 

1.  Distinctive  chavacteristics  revifA\cd,         ...         ...         163 

Exam])lcs  :— Paitiiif];  of  Hector  and  Andromache  in  the  llicul.  ^ 

Homer's  similitudes  drawn  from  the  parental  situation,  ..  165 
Medea  of  Eurijudes.     The  child-like  personification  of  Love  in 

Cupid.     Dido's  making  love  to  iEneas  through  his  boy,  ..  166 

Middle  Age  treatment  of  the  Infancy  of  Jesus  Christ, ib. 

Shakespeare's  passing  allusions  to  infancy,         ...         ...         ...  167 

Wordsworth's  'Address  to  my  Infant  Daughter  Dora'.     His 

poem  on  Michael,       ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ih. 

Tennyson's  Cradle  Song  in  the  Princess.  Parental  feeling  de- 
picted in    '  The  Grandmother  '.      Tragic   embodiment  of 

maternal  passion  in  '  Rizpah,'         ...         ...  169 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning's  Marian's  Child  in  Aurora  Leigh,  171 

Campbell's  mother  and  sleeping  infant  in  Pleasures  of  Ho2)e,  ...  172 

Victor  Hugo  on  various  aspects  of  the  parental  relation,         ...  173 

Swinburne's '^tude  Realiste,'       ...  175 

2.  Reciprocal  relation  of  children  to  parents  resembling  ordinary 

friendship,       ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ib. 

Examples  : — Cowper  on  bis  mother's  picture.  Matthew  Ar- 
nold's Elegy  on  his  father,    ...         ...         176 

FRIENDSHIP. 

Groundwork  of  the  intense  friendships  : — (1)  Personal  fascina- 
tion ;  (2)  Companionship,  with  mutual  sympathy  and 
good  offices,     ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...       179 

Examples  of  poetic  treatment  : — Achilles  and  Patrodus ; 
Hercules  and  Hylas;  Plato's  Dialogues;  Age  of  Elizabeth ; 
Milton's  'Lycidas'  ;  Burns;  Cowper's  'Mary'  ;  Gray,  ...         ib. 

Tender  relation  of  Master  and  Servant,   ...         ...         ...         ...       183 

GREGAEIOUSNESS.— PATRIOTISM. 

Collective  multitudes  affect  the  mind  apart  from  displays  of 

power,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ■-.         ...        ib. 

Pacific  gatherings  for  pleasure,      ...         ...       184 

Modes  of  description  suited  to  recall  the  effect  of  numbers. 
Grote  on  the  games  at  Delos.  Modern  newspaper 
descriptions;    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...        ib. 

Patriotic  sentiment  combines  Tender  interest  with  more  purely 

egotistic  feelings,        ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...       185 

Poetry  of  Patriotism  : — Scott's  '  Caledonia  ' ;  Cowper  ;  Macau- 
lay's  address  of  Iciliub  ;  Burns's  effusions  ;  Tennyson,   ...       186 


TABLE   OP   CONTENTS.  XXVU 

PAGE 

COMPASSION.— BENEVOLENCE.— CHIVALEY, 

Tender  Regard  in  the  form  of  Pity  for  the  Helpless  or  Needy. 

Requisites  for  stirring  the  emotion,  ...         ...         ...       188 

Examples: — Milton's  'Sonnet  on  the  Piedmontese'  ;  Sponsor 
in  the  Faerie  Queene ;  Pope's  picture  of  the  North 
American  Indian,      ...         ...         ...         ...         180 

Tender  and  compassionate  interest  in  the  Lower  Animals,       ...       190 

EELIGION. 

In  Religion,  the  awakening  of  Tender  Emotion  is  subject  to 
these  two  considerations  : — (1)  It  is  a  purely  upward 
feeling;  (2)  Its  objects  are  invisible  to  the  eye  of  sense,       191 

Methods  of  appeal,  as  governed  by  these  conditions  : — I.  To 

set  forth  the  Deity  as  an  object  of  love  or  affection,        ...       192 

Aspect  of  Divine  Power  as  Majesty,         ...         ...         ...         ...         ib. 

Divine  Goodness.      Difficulty  arising  from  the  prevalence  of 

misery.     The  Incarnation,  ...  ...         ...         ...         ...       194 

II.  To  express  the  feelings  of  the  worshipper,  so  as  to  induce  a 

sympathetic  concurrence  : — Addison's  Hymn,      ...         ...       196 

III.  To  avoid  or  obviate  intellectual  doubts  and  dilRculties,   ...       198 

IV.  To  conform  to  the  laws  of  emotional  harmony  : — Keble's 

Hymn  on  Morning,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...        ih. 

Promiscuous   Examples. 

Handling  of  the  Divine  attributes  in  Pa/-ac?isc  Zos<,      ...  ...  199 

Pope's  '  Universal  Prayer,'            ...         ...  ...         ...         ...  ih. 

Addison's  version  of  the  19th  Psalm,       ...  ...         ...         ...  201 

Passage  from  Robert  Hall  setting  forth  the  Divine  Nature  so 

as  to  awaken  religious  emotion,       ...  ...         ...         ...  202 

Appeal  to  the  influence  of  the  mysterious.  Newman  on  the 

parental  aspect  of  the  Deity,           ...         204 

TENDERNESS  IN   NATURAL   OBJECTS. 

Tender  feeling  for  objects  of  Nature  developed  by  Personifica- 
tion and  Association.  Used  as  accessories  and  surround- 
ings in  love  poetry,    206 

Milton's  Night  Scene  in  Paradise  Lost.  Thomson's  picture  of 
autumnal  decay.  Shelley's  combination  of  tenderness 
with  grandeur.  Examples  from  Keats,  Wordsworth, 
Tennyson,        ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...        ih. 

SORROW.— PATHOS. 

Meaning  of  Pathos  in  the  narrow  sense,  ...  208 


XXViii  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Eeotic  Pathos. 

Calamities  incident  to  the  love  passion, 209 

Burns  and  Browning  on  unrequited  afi'ection,     ...         ...         ...  ib. 

Desertion  : — ^Eschylus  on  Menelaus  ;  Virgil's  Dido  ;  Mother- 
well;  Tennyson,        ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ih. 

Loss  by  Death  : — Milton  on  his  deceased  wife ;  Andromache's 

grief  for  the  death  of  Hector,          211 

Paeental  Pathos. 

Loss  of  children  the  most  fi'equent  topic  of  the  poetry  of  the 

parental  relationship,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...       212 

Slaughter  of  the  Innocents.  Ben  Jonson's  Odes  on  his  lost 
children.  Recent  poets  : — D.  M.  Moir's  '  Casa  Wappy '  ; 
Hood's  child's  deathbed,       ib. 

Grief  of  Childeen  for  Parents. 

Pope's  Lines  to  his  Mother.    Cowper  on  his  'Mother's  Picture '. 

Thackeray's  '  Esmond  at  his  mother's  grave,'       214 

Sorrow  for  Friends. 

Tennyson's  In  Mcmoriavi, 217 

Browning  in  '  La  Saisiaz, ' 2'iO 

Benevolence  as  Compassion. 

Compassion  for  human  suffering  generally,         221 

The  Lower  Animals,  'i^- 

Patriotic  Compassion. 

Wailings  over  national  catastrophes.     Pathos  of  E.xile,  ...       223 

Death. 

Modes  of  being  reconciled  to  Death  :— Philosophy  ;  Religion  ; 

Stoicism,         i^- 

Poetic  Figures  of  the  soothing  kind,         224 

Extravagance  of  Keats  ;  Pope's  'Dying  Christian' ;  Longfellow 

in  '  Evangeline,'         ...         ...         ...         •••         ■••         •••        i^- 

The  Horrible  in  Excess. 

The  '  heart-rending '  in  Greek  Tragedy  ;  Southey's  '  Mary  the 
Maid  of  the  Inn  ' ;  Keats's  '  Isabella '  ;  Tennyson's 
'Coming  of  Artliur,'  225 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS.  XXIX 

PAGE 

Steength  for  Pathos. 

Examples  from  Shakespeare,         226 

PEOMISCUOUS   PASSAGES. 

Coleridge's  Poem — 'Love' — examined, 227 

Keats's  'Eve  of  St.  Agnes'  :  its  merits  and  defects,     229 

Pathos  of  Time  past : — Horace  Smith  ;  Keats, 232 

Ma.tt'hew  Arnold's  Heqtiicscat,        ib. 

VITUPERATION.— THE   LUDICROUS. 

New  applications  of  the  pleasure  of  Malignity.     Origin  of  Greek 

Comedy,  233 

VITUPERATION. 

1.  An   effect  separable  from  the    Ludicrous,    although   in   near 

alliance  with  it.     Achilles  in  the  Iliad.      Shakespeare's 

'Julius  Caesar,'           ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

2.  Positive  conditions  of  artistic  Vituperation,        235 

3.  Negative  conditions  of  restraint  and  refinement,            ...         ...  ib. 

4.  Importance  of  Plausibility  in  strong  denunciation,       ...         ...  ib. 

PvIDICULE. 

Vituperation  accompanied  with  Derision.     Special  arts,         ...       236 

HUMOUR. 

1.  Laughter  an  expression  of  pleasure  generally, ib. 

2.  Identified  more  with  certain  special  modes  of  pleasure.     The 

Ludicrous  properly  so  called  ;  its  occasions  in  the  Actual,        ib. 

3.  The  Ludicrous  or  Humour,  as  a  form  of  literature,  works  on  the 

same  lines.      Means  of  appeasing  the  sympathies,  while 

gratifying  the  delight  of  malignity,  ...         ...         ...  239 

4.  Designations,  Parody,  Mock-heroic,  Burlesque, 242 

5.  Conditions  of  Humour  illustrated  by  the  causes  of  failure,      ...  244 

EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Simple  Vituperation  : — Macaulay's  '  Barere,' 246 

Dryden  : — '  Achitophel ';  Satire  on  Shad  well, 248 

Pope  : — Eape  of  the  Lock  ;  passage  on  Addison  ;  the  Dunciad,  249 

Vituperative  eloquence  of  Chatham,         250 

Letters  of  Junius,     ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  H. 


XXX  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 

Burke,            251 

Examples  of  the  Ludickous,  as  Ridicule  and  Humour,        ...  ih. 

Aristophanes  : — Passages  from  the  '  Birds'  and  the  '  Frogs,'  ...  ib. 

Chaucer  nearly  perfect  as  a  humorist,      254 

Shakespeare  :— his  fools, 256 

Illustration  from  his  Falstaff,        ib. 

Rabelais: — Passage  in  the  storm  at  sea,  .. .         ..■  258 

Don  Quixote — general  characteristics,       ...         ...  260 

Addison  as  a  humorist,       ...         ...         ...         ...  261 

The  '  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  '  papers,        262 

Swift — unsurpassed  for  Vituperation  and  Ridicule,       ...         ...  263 

Approaches  to  Humour,      ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  264 

Fielding: — Example  of  Homeric  Parody,            ib. 

George  Eliot — Satirist  and  Humorist,      266 

WIT. 

1.  Typical  form,  a  play  upon  words,  arising  from  the  various 
meanings  of  the  same  expression.  Gives  the  pleasure  of 
surprise  and  admiration.  Identified  more  particularly 
with  Epigram.     Also  taking  the  form  of  Innuendo  and 

Irony;  and  occasionally  Balance  and  pointed  Simile,     ...  268 

2-  Conditions  of  its  effectiveness.     Causes  of  failure,        270 

3,  Alliance  with  other  qualities — especially  Vituperation,  Ridi- 
cule and  Humour.  Sometimes  employed  in  conveying  a 
compliment.     Tempering   the   extravagance  of  the  love 

emotion,          ib. 

EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  Elizabethans  : — Shakespeare,            272 

Butler's  Hudibras, 273 

Voltaire  on  Admiral  Byng's  execution, 274 

Congreve's  Comedies,          ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

Sheridan — Mrs.  Malaprop,             275 

Sydney  Smith — his  wide  range  as  Humorist  and  Wit              ...  ib. 

Douglas  Jerrold,       ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  277 

The  Irish  Bull,         ib. 

American  Humour  and  Wit,         278 

MELODY. 

1.   Melody  involves  Loth  the  Voice  and  the  Ear 280 

i!.  Scale  of  dithculty  of  pronunciation  in  the  Alphabet,      ib. 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS.  XXXI 

PAGE 

3.  Abrupt  consonants  alternating  with  long  vowels,          280 

4.  Alternation  of  a  single  consonant  and  single  vowel.     Complex 

arrangements  : — (1)  Clash    and    Cumulation   of    Conso- 
nants ;  (2)  Clash  of  Vowels — hiatus,        281 

5.  Speech,  to  be  agreeable,  demands  Variety  in  the  recurrence  of 

letters,             283 

6.  Alternation  of  emphatic  and  unemphatic,  long  and  short,      ...  285 

7 .  The  Close  of  a  Sentence  to  fall  by  degrees,         286 

8.  Regularity  in  the  recurrence  of  pauses, 287 

Examples. 

Objectionable  sentence  from  Johnson,      ...         ih. 

Examples  from  Browning,  Thomson,  Newman,  Ruskin,          ...  288 
Many  admired  passages  owe  their  beauty  to  the  melody  of  the 

words, 290 

HAKMONY  OF  SOUND  AND  SENSE. 

1.  The  sound  of  language  may  echo  the  Sense,        291 

2.  Effect  easiest  when  the  subject-matter  is  sound.     Examples  of 

sound  imitation,         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

3.  Imitation  of  Movements.     Examples,      292 

4.  Huge  unwieldy  bulk  expressed  through  slow  movement,          ...  294 

5.  By  sound  and  movement  combined   language  can  harmonize 

•with  specific  feelings,            ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

VEKSIFICATION   AND   METEE. 

Metre  defined,           295 

Measures  are  either  Dissyllabic  or  Trisyllabic, 296 

Accentuation  the  vital  circumstance,       ...         ...         ...         ...  ib. 

Dissyllabic  Measures,          ...         ...         ...         298 

Trisyllabic  Measures 299 

The  Pauses. 

The  Final  Pause,      300 

The  Middle  Pause,  or  Caesura,       302 

Alliteration. 

Its  meaning  and  employment  in  English  Poetry,          304 

Bhymb. 

Three  conditions  of  a  perfect  rhyme,        ...         306 

Great  importance  of  giving  the  rhyming  position  to  emphatic 

words,  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  308 


xxxu 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


Kinds  of  Verse. 

Blank  Verse,  called  also  Heroic,    ... 

Iambic  Octosyllabics,  ...         

Heroic  Couplets, 
The  Sonnet,  ... 

The  Spenserian  Stanza,       ...         

The  Alexandrine.     The  Ballad  Metre,      

Influence  of  Metre  analysed, 

Deviations  from  the  metrical  types, 

J.  B.  Mayor  on  the  suitability  of  the  Metres  in  '  Hamlet,' 


UTILITY. 

Associations  with  Utility  in  general,        

IMITATION. 

An  independent  effect,   although  commonly  fusing  with  the 

other  Art  Qualities, 

Different  wa)'s  that  Imitation  operates, 

Literary  examples, 

THE  MEANING  OF  BEAUTY. 

E.xplanation  of  Beauty  by  reference  to  the  exposition  of  the 
various  qualities, 

TASTE. 

Identical  with  the  highest  artistic  merits.     Designations  for  its 
oppcsites, 


309 
310 

lb. 
311 

ih. 
312 

ih. 
313 
315 


EESIDUARY   QUALITIES. 

Effects  not  included  in  the  foregoing  classification  of  Qualities,       317 

THE   SENSE   QUALITIES. 

The  Sensations  and  their  Ideas  have  an  independent  efficacy  in 
Art: — Brilliancy,  Magnificence,  Hilarity, 


ib. 


319 


320 
221 
322 


324 


325 


EHETOEIO. 


The  Emotional  Qualities  are  typified  under  the 
following  designations  : — Strength,  Energy,  Sublimity  ; 
Feeling  or  Pathos  ;  Beauty  ;  Ludicrous,  Humour,  Wit ; 
Melody  and  Expressiveness  in  Sound. 

These  are  leading  and  comprehensive  terms  ;  they  branch 
out  into  numerous  varieties  or  species ;  and  have  many 
synonyms  in  the  wide  critical  vocabulary.  (See  Ehetobic, 
Pakt  First,  p.  233.) 

In  the  language  of  criticism,  there  are  names  for  varia- 
tions and  combinations  of  these  effects.  Thus,  Professor 
Nichol,  speaking  of  Longfellow's  '  Golden  Legend,'  says  — 
'  It  contains  the  hujliest  jiujlds  of  the  author's  imagination,  his 
melloicest  mime,  his  richest  humour,  and  some  of  his  most 
iirqvessive  passages '.     (American  Literature,  p.  202.) 

Campbell's  estimate  of  Spenser's  poetry  exemplifies  a 
considerable  range  of  the  critical  vocabulary. 

"  His  command  of  imagery  is  loide,  easy  and  luxuriant.  He 
tlirew  the  soul  of  harmony  into  onr  verse,  and  made  it  more  warmly, 
tenderly  and  magnificently  descriptive  than  it  ever  was  before,  or,  with 
a  few  exceptions,  than  it  has  ever  been  since.  It  must  certainly 
be  owned  that  in  description  he  exhibits  nothing  of  the  brief  droh-s 
and  robust  power  which  characterise  the  very  greatest  poets ;  but 
we  shall  nowhere  find  more  airy  and  exfansive  images  of  visionary 
things,  a  sweeter  tone  of  sentiment  or  a  finer  flush  in  the  colours  of 
language,  than  in  this  Eubens  of  English  poetry.  His /awe?/  teems 
exuberantly  in  minuteness  of  circumstance,  like  a  fertile  soil  sendino- 
bloom  and  verdure  through  the  utmost  extremities  of  the  fohage 
which  it  nourishes.  On  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  whole  work, 
we  certainly  miss  the  charm  of  strength,  symmetry  and  rapid  or 
interesting  progress ;  for,  though  the  plan  which  the  poet  designed 


2  EMOTIONAL   QUALITIES. 

is  not  completed,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  no  additional  cantos  could 
have  rendered  it  less  perplexed.  But  still  there  is  a  richness  in 
his  materials,  even  where  their  coherence  is  loose,  and  their  dis- 
position confused.  The  clouds  of  his  allegory  may  seem  to  spread 
into  shapeless  forms,  but  they  are  still  the  clouds  of  a  gloiving  atmo- 
sphere. Thovigh  his  story  pprows  desultory,  the  sweetness  and  grace  of 
his  manner  still  abide  by  him.  He  is  like  a  speaker  whose  tones 
contintie  to  be  pleasing,  though  he  may  speak  too  long  ;  or  like  a 
painter  who  makes  us  forget  the  defect  of  his  design  by  the  magic 
of  his  colouring.  We  always  rise  from  perusing  him  with  music  in 
the  mind's  ear,  and  with  pictures  of  romantic  beauty  impressed  on 
the  imagination." 

I  give  another  exemplary  quotation  from  Shairp. 

"  Mr.  Tennyson  is,  as  all  know,  before  all  things  an  artist ; 
and  as  such  he  has  formed  for  himself  a  composite  and  richly- 
wrought  style,  into  the  elaborate  texture  of  which  many  elements, 
fetched  from  many  lands  and  from  many  things,  have  entered. 
His  selective  mmd  has  taken  now  something  from  Milton,  now 
something  from  Shakespeare,  besides  pathetic  cadences  from  the 
old  ballads,  stately  xoisdom  from  Greek  tragedians,  epic  tones  from 
Homer.  And  not  only  from  the  remote  past,  but  from  the  present ; 
the  latest  science  and  philosophy  both  lend  themselves  to  his 
thought,  and  add  metaphor  and  variety  to  his  language.  It  is  this 
elaboration  of  style,  this  subtle  trail  of  association,  this  play  of  shooting 
colours,  pervading  the  textm-e  of  his  poetry,  which  has  made  him 
be  called  the  English  Virgil.  But  if  it  were  asked,  which  of  his 
immediate  predecessors  most  influenced  his  nascent  powers,  it 
would  seem  that,  while  his  early  lyrics  recall  the  delicate  grace  of 
Coleridge,  and  some  of  his  idyls  the  plainness  of  Wordsworth,  while 
the  subtle  music  of  Shelley  has  fascinated  his  ear,  yet,  more  than 
any  other  poet,  Keats,  with  his  rich  sensuous  colouring,  is  the  master 
whose  style  he  has  caught  and  prolonged.  In  part  from  Shelley, 
and  stiU  more  from  Keats,  has  proceeded  that  rich-melodied  and 
highly-coloured  style  which  has  been  regnant  in  English  poetry  for 
the  last  hulf-ccntury." 


AKT  EMOTIONS   CLASSIFIED. 

1.  The  Emotions  of  the  huraan  mind  possess  one 
or  other  of  the  three  characteristics — Pleasure,  Pain, 
NeutraHty  or  Indifference. 

The  great  object  of  human  endeavour  is  to  secure  pleasure 
and  avoid  pain.  Every  artist  lends  himself  to  that  object, 
as  the  chief  end  of  his  art.  This  does  not  exclude  the 
union  of  art  with  effects  whose  value  is  not  measured  by 
immediate  pleasure. 

Although  the  securing  of  pleasure  and  the  avoiding  of 
pain  is  the  final  end  of  Literary,  as  of  other  ^rt,  there  are 
occasions  when  pain  may  be  used  as  an  instrument ;  beiug, 
however,  duly  guarded  and  limited  so  as  to  fulfil  the  primary 
end.  Not  only  in  Oratory,  where  pain  as  such  may  be  an 
effective  weapon,  but  also  in  Poetry,  a  temporary  shock  of 
pain  may  be  the  means  of  enhancing  the  pleasure  ;  one 
notable  instance  being  the  regulated  employment  of  the 
painful  emotion  of  Fear. 

A  value  is  attached  likewise  to  Emotion  as  Indifference  or  Neu- 
trality. By  this  is  meant  not  merely  absolute  quiescence  of  mind,  as  in 
complete  rest,  but  also  modes  of  excitement,  where  the  pain  or  the 
pleasure  is  either  nothing  at  all,  or  but  small,  compared  with  the 
mental  agitation.  The  best  example  is  Surprise,  which  may  be  either 
pleasurable  or  painful ;  or  it  may  be  neither.  Such  neutral  excitement 
is  better  than  pam,  and  may  be  the  moans  of  chsplacing  pain.  It  is  a 
power  over  the  attention,  and  can  thereby  control  the  feelmgs. 

2.  Our  Pleasures  and  Pains  are  divided  accordino; 
to  their  mental  origin,  into  two  classes — the  Sensations 
and  the  Emotions. 

The  artistic  senses  are  Sight  and  Hearing.  The 
others  have  to  be  idealized,  that  is,  represented  in  idea. 

In  speaking  of  the  Pleasures  of  Poetry  and  Fine  Art, 
wo    employ    the     comprehensive    designation    "  Emutiujud 


4  AET   EMOTIONS   CLASSIFIED. 

Qualities"  ;  nevertheless,  our  two  higher  senses — Sight  and 
Hearing — enter  into  many  forms  of  Art. 

While  several  of  the  Fine  Arts,  as  Painting,  Sculpture, 
Architecture,  address  the  eye ;  the  Literary  Art,  Hke  Music, 
addresses  directly  the  ear  alone. 

The  musical  art  has  a  superstructure  altogether  its  own ;  as  seen 
in  its  instrumental  variety.  It  was  coupled,  from  the  earliest  times, 
with  poetry,  and  is  permanently  connected  with  poetic  composition. 
Verse,  as  well  as  prose,  is  made  to  be  spoken  or  recited,  in  wliich  form 
it  affects  the  ear,  ILke  music ;  and,  when  read,  without  being  spoken 
aloud,  the  melody  is  still  apparent. 

The  pleasure  of  a  sweet  sound  is  an  ultimate  fact  of  the  senses  :  the 
harmonizing  of  several  sounds  is  a  yet  further  pleasure,  equally  funda- 
mental and  inexplicable.  Each  musical  piece  contams  some  melodious 
sequence  of  notes,  which  is  characteristic  of  the  piece,  and  which  is 
not  less  difficult  to  account  for.  There  may,  however,  be  involved  in 
these  melodies  an  emotional  expressiveness,  a  derived  effect,  of  tlie 
nature  of  personification,  like  the  charms  of  those  objects  of  sight  that 
suggest  features  of  humanity. 

3.  The  objects  of  Sight  are  not  represented  in 
Poetry,  as  they  are  in  Painting ;  but  by  means  of 
verbal  suggestion  they  may  be  readily  conceived. 

The  visible  world  contains  many  things  agreeable  to  our 
sense  of  sight.  These  can  be  pictured  by  the  force  of  language, 
and  such  pictures  are  admissible  into  poetry. 

The  splendours  of  coloured  decoration  in  dwellings  ;  the  artificial 
glare  of  fire-works ;  the  colours  of  field,  water  and  sky ;  the  gorgeous 
array  of  sunset  and  sunrise — are  among  the  actual  sense  enjoyments  of 
mankind.  They  are  imitated  in  pauiting,  and  suggested  in  poetry. 
Tliey  are  among  the  primary  sources  of  human  delight.  The  influencG 
of  personification  lends  itself  to  enlarge  their  scope  in  art.  _ 

The  devices  of  language  are  governed  by  this  restriction  of  sense 
pleasures  to  ideal  presentation.  First,  as  to  choice  of  Subject. 
A  pamter  can  give  a  crowded  scone,  with  the  utmost  detail, 
every  particular  being  operative :  while  the  very  best  description  in 
poetry  can  overtake  only  a  very  small  amount  of  scenic  complication. 
Second,  as  to  Handling.  All  the  aids  of  pictorial  conception  must 
be  carefully  studied,  to  succeed  even  to  tlie  limited  extent  that  success 
is  possible.  This  consideration  goes  beyond  mere  sense  pleasures  ;  the 
awakening  of  emotion  being  largely  dependent  on  the  recall  of  sensible 
images. 

4.  Of  the  Emotions,  strictly  so  called,  the  artistic 
bearings  are  more  numerous  still. 

The  sensations  of  the  senses  are  the  simplest  of  all  our 
mental  states ;  the  feeling  of  warmth,  the  taste  of  sugar, 
the  odour  of  musk,  the  sight  of  the  blue  sky— cannot  readily 


FOUNDATIONS   OF   ART   EMOTION.  6 

be  decomposed  into  any  simpler  feelings.  The  Emotions,  on 
the  other  hand,  are,  in  many  instances,  coalitions  or  aggre- 
gates of  sensations ;  as,  for  example,  the  emotion  of  Pro- 
perty and  the  effect  named  Harmony. 

Again,  while  the  sensations  arise  by  the  stimulation  of 
some  external  organ,  called  an  organ  of  sense — the  skin,  the 
ear,  the  eye — an  emotion  is  generated  more  in  the  depths  of 
the  mind,  and,  when  connected  with  physical  organs,  works 
upon  these  from  within  rather  than  from  without.  Thus, 
the  emotion  of  Love  needs  ideas  to  stimulate  and  support 
it ;  and,  although  it  may  begin  in  the  senses,  it  undergoes 
transformation  in  the  depths  of  intellect. 

5.  The  Emotions  specially  belonging  to  works  of 
Fine  Art  in  general,  and  to  Poetry  in  particular,  have 
been  already  indicated  (p.  1) ;  but  the  foundations  of 
some  of  them  have  to  be  sought  in  more  general  sources 
of  emotion. 

If  the  emotions  named  Sublimity,  Beauty,  Pathos, 
Humour,  were  clearly  definable  in  themselves,  we  should  be 
content  to  stop  with  them.  If,  however,  they  mask  other 
strong  emotions,  not  always  apparent  on  the  surface,  it 
becomes  requisite  to  go  back  upon  these. 

6.  Of  our  susceptibilities  to  emotion,  the  pre-emi- 
nence must  be  given  to  the  contrasting  couple,  desig- 
nated Love  and  Malevolence. 

To  understand  the  workings  of  Pathos,  we  refer  to  the 
feeling  of  Love.  In  Sublimity  and  in  Humour  alike,  there 
is  an  unpronounced,  yet  unmistakable,  admixture  of  the 
delight  arising  from  Malevolence.  The  Social  Feelings, 
which  make  up  our  interest  in  persons,  have  their  chief 
sources  in  these  two  great  fountains  of  emotion  ;  and  in 
Art,  as  in  actual  life,  om-  highest  enjoyment  is  connected 
with  persons.  The  influence  is  still  further  extended  by 
personifying  the  inanimate  world.* 

7.  The  Emotion  of  Feae  has  a  place  in  the  creations 
of  literature,  although  on  grounds  peculiar  to  itself. 

*  Although  written  with  comic  intention,  the  following  lines  from  Hudibras 
give  nearly  the  literal  truth. 

And  swore  the  world,  as  he  could  prove, 
Was  made  of  fighting  and  of  love. 
Just  so  romances  are,  for  what  else 
Is  in  them  all,  but  love  and  battles  7 


b  AET  EMOTIONS   CLASSIFIED. 

Unlike  Love  and  Malevolence,  Fear  is  a  form  of  pain, 
often  of  the  severest  kind.  As  v^ith  pain  generally,  the 
relief  or  rebound  may  amount  to  pleasure ;  and  there  are 
occasions  when  such  pleasure  has  a  positive  or  surplus 
value.  A  small  fright  is  sometimes  more  than  compensated 
by  the  joyous  reaction.  This  especially  happens  in  sym- 
pathetic frights,  as  in  the  incidents  of  romance  and  the 
drama. 

Still  more  important,  however,  are  the  bearings  of  the 
emotion  on  the  two  great  sources  of  genuine  pleasure — 
Malevolence  and  Love.  Malevolence  delights  in  crushing 
its  victims,  and  in  all  the  tokens  of  that  result.  Now  to 
induce  the  quakings  and  signs  of  fear  is  one  of  the  marked 
proofs  of  success,  and  is  relished  accordingly. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  exercise  of  pity  and  protector- 
ship is  all  the  more  grateful,  the  more  prostrate  the  objects 
of  the  feeling ;  and  terror  is  the  proof  of  prostration. 

8.  Among  the  forms  of  strong  Emotion  entering 
into  Literary  Art,  are  the  different  modes  of  what  is 
termed  Egotism  :  under  which  may  be  included  the 
Pleasure  of  Power ;  Self-Love,  Self-Esteem ;  Pride 
and  Dignity ;  Sense  of  Honour ;  Self-importance ; 
Vanity. 

These  are  not  fundamental  feelings  of  the  mind ;  being, 
in  fact,  largely  made  up  by  contributions  from  the  powerful 
emotions  just  named.  Yet,  however  derived,  they  are  named 
and  referred  to,  apart  from  their  supposed  constituents. 

It  is  only  within  narrow  limits,  and  under  special  re- 
strictions, that  these  gi-eat  volumes  of  sentiment  can  be 
evoked  by  the  literature  of  emotion.  One  notable  case  is 
Flattery,  and  its  opposite,  Eeprobation  or  Vituperation.  In 
some  instances,  the  poet  singles  out  an  individual  for  lofty 
encomiums ;  as  seen  in  the  Odes  of  Pindar,  in  the  praises  of 
Augustus  by  Virgil,  and  of  Maecenas  by  Horace. 

More  common  is  the  flattery  of  a  whole  nation,  at  the 
expense  of  other  nations;  as  in  our  own  patriotic  odes.  To 
flatter  humanity  in  general  seems  not  beyond  the  power  of 
a  poet ;  notwithstanding  that  to  raise  one  person,  we  must 
depress  some  others  :  while  the  pleasure  of  the  depreciation 
is  part  of  the  case.  Man  is  said  to  be  god-descended,  and 
thus  raised  above  the  beasts  that  perish.     Our  noble  in- 


EGOTISM. — RANGE    OF   SYMPATHY.  7 

stincts  and  high  faculties  are  praised  in  the  same  way,  and 
by  the  same  comparison. 

Longfellow  flatters  our  human  capabilities,  in  the  well- 
known  stanza  beginning — 

Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us — 

The  Ehetorical  arts  of  eulogy  will  appear  in  connexion 
with  the  poetry  of  the  moral  sublime. 

For  the  present,  it  is  enough  to  refer  to  such  leading  devices  as 
Contrast  and  Innuendo,  for  rendering  flattery  efiective,  wJiile  depriving 
it  of  the  vice  of  fulsomeness. 

There  are  good  and  also  refined  modes  of  flattery,  as  Literature 
abundantly  testifies. 

There  is  delicate  flattery  in  Dekker's  line — 
Honest  labour  bears  a  lovely  face. 
Another  form  of  the  sentiment  is — 

An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God. 

Bums  has  exemplified  the  highest  flight  of  this  form  of  flattery, 
intendmg  to  soothe  the  wounded  spirit  of  the  poor  and  down-trodden  of 
mankind — 

A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that. 

There  is  an  effective  mode  of  indirect  flattery,  in  the  apparent 
moral  depreciation  of  mankind.  This  is  carried  so  far  as  to  imply  great 
capabiUties  in  the  first  instance.  Only  a  superior  nature  could  be  so 
smful,  as  is  said.  We  should  very  much  resent  being  made  out  at  once 
feeble  and  bad. 

The  opposite  of  Flattery  is  Vituperation,  an  art  culti- 
vated in  all  ages,  and  a  principal  outlet  to  our  malign 
sentiments. 

In  connexion  with  the  group  of  Qualities,  named  the 
Ludicrous,  Humour,  Wit,  the  arts  of  Vituperation  will  be 
fully  illustrated. 

9.  Of  great  importance  in  Literary  creations  is  a 
right  understanding  of  the  power  named  Sympathy, 

As  a  spur  to  humane  and  virtuous  conduct.  Sympathy  is 
the  counteractive  of  our  Egotism  or  Selfishness.  It  is  in  close 
relation  to  the  tender  and  amicable  emotions,  and  is  called 
into  play  by  the  delineation  of  pain,  misery  or  distress. 

In  another  aspect,  it  is  the  power  of  entering  into,  or 
realizing,  the  feelings  and  situations  portrayed  in  literature. 
One  of  the  aims  of  poetry  is  to  body  forth  characters  and 
incidents  that  recall  the  choicest  phases  of  our  own  person- 
ality. It  was  this  that  gave  Alexander  his  interest  in 
Homer :  the  character  and  exploits  of  Achilles  reflected  the 


8  AET  EMOTIONS   CLASSIFIED. 

great  conqtieror's  own  egotism.  According  to  Goethe,  the 
poet  is  welcome  to  the  lover,  because  he  can  best  express 
and  body  forth  the  love-passion.  This  peculiar  interest 
attaches  to  ordinary  biography.  Much  more  can  it  be 
evoked  by  the  set  pui-pose  of  the  imaginative  creator  of 
poetry  and  romance. 

10.  In  connexion  with  the  exercise  of  the  Under- 
standing, there  is  pleasure  in  discovering  Similarity 
in  Diversity,  Unity  in  Multitude. 

The  agreeable  surprise  attending  novel  comparisons  is 
one  of  the  charms  of  a  work  of  original  genius.  Yet  further, 
when  the  mind  is  overwhelmed  by  a  multitude  of  uncon- 
nected details,  the  introduction  of  a  plan  that  imparts  unity 
is  felt  as  a  joyful  relief.     (See,  afterwards,  Habmony.) 

11.  Allied  with  our  Activity  in  the  pursuit  of  Ends, 
there  is  an  attitude  of  suspense  and  engrossment, 
occasioning  a  special  form  of  pleasure,  greatly  culti- 
vated in  literary  art.     It  is  called  the  interest  of  Plot. 

In  modern  Eomance,  this  interest  is  cultivated  to  the 
utmost.  It  will  be  exemplified  under  a  subsequent  head 
(Aids  to  Qualities). 

12.  Although  the  Beautiful  and  the  Useful  are  in 
many  ways  contrasted,  yet  the  utilities  of  life,  if  freed 
from  all  repulsive  accompaniments,  may  be  brought 
within  the  circle  of  Aj:t  pleasures. 

A  good  crop  in  the  fields,  or  a  well-filled  larder  in  the 
house,  is  not  considered  an  object  of  beauty  in  the  same  way 
as  a  picturesque  view,  or  a  fine  statue ;  but  from  their  agree- 
able associations,  they  can  be  used  for  literary  interest. 

In  Plato's  Dialogue,  Hippias  Major,  the  theory  that 
would  refer  beauty  to  Utility  is  refuted  by  the  example  of 
a  basket  of  dung,  which  is  useful  without  being  beautiful ; 
an  objection  equally  applicable  to  an  apothecary's  jar  of 
leeches.  Such  cases,  however,  have  to  be  excepted.  What- 
ever produces  immediate  revulsion,  however  valuable  for 
certain  ends,  is  not  a  proper  subject  for  the  poetical  or 
literary  art.  There  will  be  occasions  afterwards  for  drawing 
the  line  between  admissible  and  inadmissible  forms  of  pain- 
ful interest. 

The  exercise  of  commanding  Power  in  bringing  forth  the 


PLEASURE   OF   IMITATION.  9 

utilities  of  life,  as  in  machinery,  is  a  subject  of  standing 
interest :  as  will  be  seen  under  the  quality  of  Strength  or 
Sublimity. 

13.  Provided  the  grosser  forms  of  indulgence  are 
kept  out  of  view,  our  agreeable  experiences  generally 
may  be  ideally  depicted  in  polite  literature. 

The  reaction  from  pains  and  disagreeables  of  the  senses 
is  often  acutely  pleasurable  ;  and  the  idea  of  it  can  also  be 
made  pleasurable.  In  particular,  the  deliverance  from 
burdens,  from  any  over-exertion  or  strain  of  the  active 
organs,  gives  a  joyful  rebound,  which  enters  into  the  plea- 
sures of  conscious  energy  or  Strength  :  and  to  express  such 
rebound  is  within  the  sphere  of  Art.  The  delights  of  Liberty 
after  restraint  make  an  inspiring  theme  in  poetry.  This  is 
one  of  the  cases  where  pain  is  allowed  to  be  represented  in 
Art ;  the  pain  being  the  necessary  preparation  for  the  re- 
action that  gives  the  delight.  The  reader  of  the  Pilgrim's 
Progress  has  to  share  the  pain  of  Christian's  burden,  together 
with  the  depressing  sense  of  his  trials,  before  rejoicing  in 
his  final  deliverance. 

The  inferior  senses — Touch,  Smell,  Taste  and  Organic 
Sensibility — yield  pleasures  in  the  reality,  and  these  can  be 
so  represented  in  idea  as  to  impart  a  certain  amount  of 
gratification.  The  pleasures  of  Appetite  can  also  be  ideally 
suggested,  but  under  the  restraints  imposed  by  Taste  and 
Morals.  The  indulgences  of  muscular  exercise  and  repose, 
when  presented  in  ideal  pictures,  are  acceptable  to  all  that 
can  take  delight  in  the  reality. 

14.  Among  the  emotional  effects  of  the  poetic  art, 
we  are  to  include  the  Pleasure  of  Imitation. 

This  is  a  far-reaching  effect  in  the  Fine  Arts.  The 
painter  and  sculptor  deal  largely  in  portraiture  and  imitation. 
The  poet  depicts  scenes,  actions,  and  characters  ;  and  the 
fidelity  of  the  resemblance  contributes  to  the  charm  of  his 
work.     (See  Ideality.) 

15.  The  primary  pleasures  of  mankind  are  the 
starting-point  for  numerous  Associations,  which  have  a 
value  as  enjoyment  both  in  the  reality  and  in  the 
literary  representation. 

Association  clothes  with  interest   a  great    number  of 
2 


10  ART   EMOTIONS   CLASSIFIED. 

objects  originally  indifferent,  and  greatly  enlarges  tlie  poet's 
resources  for  stirring  up  pleasurable  emotion.  Eeverence 
and  sanctity  can  be  imparted,  by  usage,  to  places,  things, 
persons,  observances,  incidents  and  events.  Even  stones 
can  assume  a  hallowed  interest,  as  the  coronation  stone  of 
the  Scottish  kings,  the  sacred  stone  of  Mecca,  the  ruins  of 
Jerusalem. 


AIDS  TO  EMOTIONAL  QUALITIES. 

Under  all  the  Emotional  Qualities,  there  is  a 
common  attempt  to  evoke  Emotion  of  the  pleasurable 
kind.  There  are,  therefore,  aids,  precautions  and 
limitations,  equally  applicable  throughout. 

EEPKESENTATIVE  VOCABULAEY. 

1.  The  comprehensive  requirement  for  arousing 
the  emotions,  is  Eepeesentative  Force  iu  the 
language. 

In  discussing  the  Figures  of  Speech  and  the  Intellectual 
Qualities,  more  especially  Picturesqueness,  reference  has 
been  made  to  various  conditions  of  emotional  effect.  All 
the  arts  ministering  to  intellectual  ease  contribute  to  the 
object  now  in  view. 

In  our  English  vocabulary,  each  of  the  leading  emotions 
is  provided  with  verbal  designations,  as  will  be  seen  in  the 
detailed  treatment  of  the  Qualities.  Yet,  whatever  be  the 
emotions  that  we  wish  to  inspire,  the  names  or  terms  to  be 
employed  may  be  made  to  fall  under  the  following  heads. 

(1)  Names  appropriated  to  the  Feelings,  as  such. 
'Pleasure,'  'charm,'  'delight,'  'happiness,'  'satisfaction,' 
'exhilaration,'  'cheerfulness,'  'hilarity,'  'gaiety,'  'serenity,' 
'content,'  'ease,'  'repose';  'pain,'  'misery,'  'depression,' 
'gloom,'  'melancholy,'  'sadness,'  'sorrow';  'warmth,'  'cold,' 
'fatigue';  'sweetness,'  'bitterness,'  'pungency,'  '  luscious- 
ness';  'melody,'  'harmony'. 

This  class  of  names  is  designated  (tnhjedive  ;  being  dis- 
tinguished from  our  ohjedu;e  terminology,  or  names  for 
things  external.  The  relative  value  of  each  class  will  be 
seen  afterwards.     In  the  meantime,  we  must  separate  the 


12  AIDS   TO   QUALITIES— VOCABULARY. 

purely  subjective  terms,  above  exemplified,  from  those  that 
imply  a  slight  reference  to  something  external.  Such  are  : 
'  hunger,'  '  satiety';  '  fear,'  •  love,'  '  hatred,'  *  rage,'  *  wotider,' 
'selfishness,'  'envy,'  'jealousy,'  'ambition,'  'benevolence,' 
'pity,'  'admiration,'  'reverence';  'good,'  'bad';  'grand,' 
'  imposing,'  '  noble ' ;  '  consolation,'  '  relief,'  *  refreshment ' ; 
— in  all  which  an  outward  object  is  indicated,  thereby 
preventing  us  from  dwelling  upon  the  inward  state  apart 
from  all  objective  accompaniments. 

The  description  of  the  feelings  is  extended  by  epithets, 
which  vary  both  the  degree  and  the  species  :  '  Great  plea- 
sure,' '  excruciating  anguish,'  '  intense  sweetness,'  '  noble 
rage,'  '  profound  reverence,'  '  acute  pain,'  '  biting  care,' 
'paralyzing  fear,'  'intense  disgust,'  'supreme  contempt,' 
'burning  indignation,'  'vehement  love,'  'ardent  curiosity,' 
'  cruel  hate,'  '  fierce  revenge,'  '  tumultuous  joys  '. 

(2)  Names  appropriated  to  objects  that,  by  Association, 
give  rise  to  feelings.  Thus  the  words  '  light,'  '  sunshine,' 
'darkness,'  'heat,'  'cold,'  are  names  for  outside  influences; 
yet  they  have  also  an  emotional  effect,  by  means  of  their 
association  with  agreeable  or  disagreeable  feelings. 

So, — 'beauty,'  'saint,'  'heaven,'  'paradise,'  'music,' 
'  storm,'  '  tempest,'  '  volcano,'  '  ocean,'  '  wilderness,'  '  abyss,' 
'  hell,'  '  night,'  '  hero,'  '  victor,'  '  giant,'  '  benefactor,' 
'  genius,'  '  assassin,'  '  devil,'  '  liar,'  '  Hercules,'  '  Venus,' 
'  Cupid,'  '  knowledge,'  'wealth,'  '  freedom,'  '  empire,'  'duty,' 
'  prosperity,'  '  war,'  '  death  '. 

Epithets  here,  too,  play  an  important  part  :  '  reddening 
Phoebus,'  ' rosy-fingei'cd  morn,'  'gathering  storms,'  '  sniiling 
morn,'  'twinkling  stars,'  'brilliant  meteors,'  'fiery  comets,' 
'  howling  winds,'  '  sounding  lyre,'  '  good  fortune  '. 

(3)  Names  and  phrases  appropriated  to  the  Outward 
Expression  of  feelings.  This  class  is  remarkable  for  con- 
taining associates  with  feelings  of  instinctive  origin.  '  Smile,' 
'laugh,'  'frown,'  'stare,'  'cry,'  'scream,'  'howl,'  'pout,' 
'sneer,'  '  tremble,'  'blush,'  '  kiss,'  '  embrace,'  '  sigh,'  '  shout,' 
'  groan,' '  wail,'  'gnash  the  teeth,'  'yawn,'  'yearn,'  'burn,' 
'smirk,'  'grin,'  'titter,'  'twinge,'  'shake,'  'scratch  the  head,' 
'ready  to  split,'  'hold  the  sides,'  'hair  standing  on  end  '. 

(4)  Phraseology  of  Collateral  circumstances,  associations 
and  harmonious  surroundings  :  lloary  age ;  the  dlent  land. 


EXTEANEOUS  HELPS.  13 

Melancholy  lifts  her  head, 
Morpheus  roiiscs  from  his  bed, 
Sloth  unfolds  her  arms  and  wakes, 
Listening  Envy  drops  her  snakes.—  (Pope.) 

Gray's  Ode,  entitled  *0n  a  Distant  Prospect  of  Eton 
College,'  exemplifies  all  the  classes  of  terms  now  enumerated. 
For  the  more  purely  subjective,  special  reference  may  be 
made  to  lines  16-20. 

2.  The  feeling  evoked  by  the  Eepresentative  Force 
of  language  may  be  helped  and  intensified  by  certain 
,  additional  and  extraneous  circumstances. 

(1)  The  Causes,  or  Occasions  of  a  Feeling. 

A  burst  of  wrath  is  brought  home  to  us  more  vividly 
when  a  strong  provocation  is  assigned ;  as  with  Achilles  in 
the  Iliad. 

(2)  The  Conduct  that  follows. 

The  same  instance  may  be  adduced.  The  separation 
from  the  Greek  host,  the  sullen  isolation,  impresses  us  still 
more  with  the  intensity  of  the  angry  passion.  The  details 
of  Lady  Macbeth's  conduct  after  the  murder  and  down  to 
her  tragical  end  assist  in  our  appreciation  of  her  remorse. 

(3)  The  effect  on  Belief. 

Love  blinds  us  to  the  defects  of  the  object.  Fear  exag- 
gerates danger.  Party  spirit  is  evinced  by  the  credit  given 
to  calumnious  accusations  against  opponents. 

(4)  Influence  on  the  Thoughts. 

The  influence  over  attention  and  the  direction  of  the 
thoughts  measure  the  intensity  of  the  feelings,  and  are 
constantly  used  in  Poetry,  to  express  the  higher  degrees  of 
emotion. 

Milton  makes  Adam  say  of  Eve — 

With  thee  conversing,  I  forget  all  time. 

So  Burns — 

By  day  and  night,  my  fancy's  flight 
Is  ever  wi'  my  Jean. 

The  intensity  of  our  feeling  towards  any  object  has  an 
exact  measure  in  the  frequency  of  its  recurrence,  and  the 
degree  of  its  persistence  in  the  thoughts. 

Another  effective  measure  of  the  strength  of  a  feeling  is 


14  AIDS   TO   QUALITIES — VOCABULABY. 

the  interest  it  imparts  to  objects  remotely  comiected  with 
it,  and  of  themselves  trivial ;  as  relics,  keepsakes,  souvenii-s, 
local  associations,  and  the  like. 

(5)  Power  to  submerge  opposing  states. 

The  love  of  Jacob  for  Eachel  was  evinced  by  his  sub- 
mitting to  fourteen  years'  service  on  her  account. 

(6)  Comparisons. 

As  in  Gray — 

Sweet  is  the  breath  of  vernal  shower, 
The  bee's  collected  treasures  sweet, 
Sweet  music's  meltLng  fall,  but  sweeter  yet 
The  still  small  voice  of  gratitude. 

Hamlet,  at  his  lowest  depths,  exclaims :  '  Man  delights 
not  me ;  no,  nor  woman  neither '. 

By  a  common  hyperbole,  in  representing  the  love  passion, 
Tennyson,  in  '  Maud,'  makes  the  lover  speak  thus  : 

I  have  led  her  home,  my  love,  my  only  friend. 
There  is  none  like  her,  none. 

So,  in  '  In  Memoriam  ' — 

Dear  as  the  mother  to  the  son, 
More  than  my  brothers  are  to  me. 

In  the  catastrophe  of  '  The  Eape  of  the  Lock,'  Pope 
portrays  the  heroine's  intensity  of  emotion  by  a  series  of 
comparisons  : — 

Kot  youthful  kmgs  in  battle  seized  alive, 
Kot  scornful  virgins  who  their  charms  survive, 
Not  ardent  lovers  robb'd  of  all  their  bliss, 
Not  ancient  ladies  when  refused  a  kiss, 
Not  tyrants  fierce  that  unrepenting  die. 
Not  Cynthia  when  her  manteau's  pinned  awry. 
E'er  felt  such  rage,  resentment,  and  despair. 
As  thou,  sad  virgin,  for  thy  ra-\-ish'd  hair. 

All  this  is  mock  hyperbole. 

The  kind  of  comparison  here  intended  is  real  and  not 
figurative,  and  is  so  much  the  more  effective. 

It  is  remarked  by  Mr.  Theodore  Watts  ('  Poetry,'  Enry- 
cIojHfdia  Britannica)  that  a  certain  heat  of  passion  defies 
and  transcends  words  ;  this  fact  constituting  the  infirmity  of 
poetry  as  compared  with  sculpture  and  painting.  In  the 
acted  di'ama,  the  blanks  are  tilled  up  with  silent  gesture. 
In  verbal  composition,  the  poet's  chief  resource  is  the  bold 
figures  —  Exclamation,    Apostrophe,  Interrogation.      Com- 


POETIC Ali   DICTION.  15 

pression  and  Suggestiveness,  at  their  utmost  pitch,  become 
significant. 

3.  The  topic  of  Suggestiveness  has  numerous  bear- 
ings, as  regards  power  of  representation. 

One  important  circumstance  is  restraint,  or  reserve 
of  emotion. 

There  ought  to  be  no  more  expression  used  than  is 
sufficient  for  the  effect.  A  surplus  is  not  only  needless,  but 
hurtful.  Something  should  be  left  to  the  hearers  to  expand 
in  their  own  minds. 

"When  Eichard  exclaims — '  the  king's  name  is  a  tower 
of  strength,'  he  can  do  no  more.  The  hearer  readily  supplies 
the  comparison  with  the  enemy,  which  Eichard  super- 
fluously tacks  on. 

So,  in  Milton- 
Such  a  numerous  host 
Fled  not  in  silence  through  the  frightful  deep. 

4.  Connected  with  the  Vocabulary  of  artistic  emo- 
tion is  the  existence  of  a  select  Poetical  Diction. 

The  language  habitually  employed  by  poets  has  become 
an  essential  of  poetry. 

It  has  these  characteristics. 

(1)  In  the  first  place,  when  Strencfth  is  aimed  at,  there  is  a 
certain  degree  of  dignity  or  elevation,  which,  if  not  absokitely  neces- 
sary to  the  quality,  is  a  valuable  adjunct.  This  is  seen  in  such 
words  as  'vale,'  'vesture'  or  'attire,'  '  azure,'  'chanticleer,'  for  the 
more  prosaic  terms  'valley,'  '  clothes  '  or  '  garments,'  '  sky,'  '  cock'. 
This  means  that  purely  colloquial  terms,  slang  words,  and  the 
like,  are  excluded  from  poetry ;  as  well  as  words  and  phrases  that 
have  grown  thoroughly  hackneyed.  On  the  other  hand,  it  means 
that  distinct  preference  is  given  to  words  that  are  rarely  employed 
in  vulgar  speech  :  such  as — '  wot,'  '  ween,'  '  wane,'  '  sheen,'  '  trow  '. 

(2)  In  the  second  place,  as  regards  the  quality  of  Feelmg,  the 
effect  may  be  described  as  warmth  or  glow. 

These  two  characteristics  may  be  readily  exemplified  from 
any  of  the  greater  poets.  Take,  first,  the  opening  lines  of  Pope's 
'  Messiah ' : 

Ye  nymphs  of  Solyma  !  begin  the  song  : 
To  heavenly  themes  sublimer  strains  belong. 
The  mossy  fountains,  and  the  sylvan  shades. 
The  dreams  of  Pindus,  and  the  Aonian  maids, 
Delight  no  more — O  thou  my  voice  inspire 
Who  touch'd  Isaiah's  hallow'd  hps  with  fire  ! 


16  AIDS  TO    QUALITIES —VOCABULARY. 

Here  at  once  the  words  '  nymph,'  and  '  Soljniia '  attract  our 
attention  ;  and,  on  exammation,  we  find  that  they  derive  their 
peculiar  virtue  solely  from  the  fact  that  they  are  the  highly  poetic 
form  of  what,  in  common  prose,  woiild  be  expressed  by  '  virgins  '  or 
'daiighters'  and  'Jerusalem'.  Next  comes  'themes'  and  'strains,' 
which  are  also  poetic,  and  in  full  keeping  with  the  elevated 
subject  whereof  the  poem  treats  ;  while  a  distinct  and  separate 
effect  is  traceable  to  the  inversion  of  the  order  of  the  woi'ds.  A 
similar  inversion  would  add  to  the  poetic  force  of  the  next  two 
lines,  beginning  '  No  more  the  mossy  fountains,'  and  ending  with 
'  delight ' :  but  the  diction  in  '  sylvan  shades '  is  higlily  felicitous. 
Lastly  comes  the  invocation,  which  is  finely  worded,  with  the 
rhythm  and  the  simple  dignity  of  phraseology  in  perfect  harmony. 
Next,  take  a  stanza  from  Tennyson's  '  In  Memoriam'; 

I  held  it  truth,  with  him  who  sings 
To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones, 
That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 

Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things. 

The  opening  phrase,  '  I  held  it  truth,'  is  the  real  essence  of 
poetry,  being  unmistakably  marked  off  from  all  prose  expression  of 
the  same  thought,  however  good  :  as  '  I  firmly  believed,'  '  I  was  of 
opinion'.  The  allusion  to  '  him  who  sings '  (viz.,  Goethe)  is  also 
in  form  poetic  ;  and  the  very  rendermg  '  him  who  sings  '  for  '  poet ' 
makes  us  feel  at  once  that  we  are  in  an  entirely  different  world  from 
that  of  every-day  utterance.  Then  the  second  line  gives  poetic  ex- 
pression to  the  unity  of  Goethe's  teachmg,  in  the  midst  of  all  its 
variety  ;  employing  the  archaic  terms  '  divers '  and  '  harp '  with 
much  effect.  The  next  two  lines  are  noted  mainly  for  their  ima- 
gery. 

Of  the  whole,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  effect  is  obtained 
more  by  the  diction  than  by  &nj  poetic  inversion  of  words,  and 
that  the  march  of  the  metre  keeps  pace  with  the  subHmity  of  the 
thought. 

Our  last  example  is  from  Browning's  '  Jochanan  Hakkadosh' : 

A  certain  morn  broke  beautiful  and  blue 

O'er  Schiphaz  city,  bringing  joy  and  mirth, 
— So  had  ye  deemed  ;  Avhile  the  reverse  was  true, 

Since  one  small  house  there  gave  a  sorrow  bii'th 
In  svich  black  sort  that,  to  each  faithful  eye. 

Midnight,  not  morning,  settled  on  the  earth. 
How  else,  when  it  grew  certain  thou  wouldst  die. 

Our  much-enlightened  master,  Israel's  prop. 
Eximious  Jochanan  Ben  Sabbathai  ? 

The  phraseology  here  is  a  study  of  diction.  The  terms  '  mom,' 
'  deemed,'  '  black  sort,'  are  usually  reserved  for  poetry.  The 
names  '  beautiful,'  '  blue,'  '  joy,'  '  mirth,'  are  freely  used  in  prose, 
without  being  disqualified  for  poetry,  when  connected  .with  suit- 


OBJECTIVE    AND    SUBJECTIVE    COMPAKED.  17 

able  subjects.     '  Eximious '   is  an  objectionable  word,  from  not 
being  in  sufficient  use  to  be  generally  understood.* 

Notwithstanding  the  existence  of  a  copious  poetic  diction,  the 
larger  part  of  the  composition  must  still  be  made  up  of  terms 
adapted  to  prose  and  used  in  familial'  style.  The  poetical  charac- 
ter is  imparted  by  means  of  unprosaic  arrangements,  and  of  con- 
junctions with  words  of  the  select  poetic  class. 

CONCEETENESS  AND  OBJECTIVITY. 

1.  For  effects  of  Emotion,  a  prime  requisite  is 
Concreteness. 

Our  strongest  feelings  attach  to  what  is  concrete  and 
individual.  With  a  particular  city,  a  mountain  or  a  river, 
•we  can  associate  warm  emotions ;  while  in  a  mathe- 
matical plan,  in  gravity,  solidity  or  fluidity,  we  have  a 
species  of  interest  quite  different  and  not  included  among 
poetic  or  artistic  effects. 

The  superiority  of  Concrete  phraseology  for  intellect  as 
well  as  for  emotion  has  been  shown  under  Figuees  of 
Speech,  Simplicity  and  Pictubesqueness.  Further  ex- 
emplification will  occur  naturally  in  the  detail  of  the 
Qualities. 

2.  It  is  important,  in  view  of  all  the  qualities,  to 
note  the  superiority  of  Objective  thought  and  phraseo- 
logy. 

The  contrast  of  Subjective  and  Objective  has  already 
been  illustrated  with  reference  to  the  emotional  vocabulary 

There  is  greater  mental  exhilaration  in  directing  our 
view  upon  outward  things  than  in  dwelling  on  states  of 
the  inner  consciousness.  Hence  when,  as  is  so  often  neces- 
sary, attention  is  directed  jto  the  feelings,  the  preference  is 
given  to  names  suggestive  of  outward  aspects  and  indica- 
tions. In  speaking  of  humanity,  it  is  better  to  say  vien 
are  affected  in  a  certain  way,  than  the  mind  is  affected.    The 

*  Wordsworth,  in  reaction  against  the  School  of  Pope,  maintained  that  there 
is  no  distinct  '  poetic  diction,'  and  tliat  the  best  langnage  for  the  poet  is  the  best 
language  of  common  life.  It  has  often  been  pointed  out  that  his  ovn  finest  poems 
are  sufficient  condemnation  of  his  theory.  As  Dean  Church  says,  "  he  mistook  tlie 
fripperies  of  poetic  diction  for  poetic  diction  itself".  "  He  was  right  in  protesting 
against  the  doctrine  that  a  thing  is  not  poetical  because  it  is  not  expressed  in  a 
conventional  meritage  :  he  was  wrong  in  denying  that  there  is  a  mintage  of  words 
tit  for  poetry  and  unsuitable  for  ordinary  prose." — (Ward's  English  Potts,  Vol.  lY. 
p.  15.) 


18  AIDS    TO    QUALITIES— CONCEETENESS. 

best  poetic  composition  is  sparing  in  the  extreme  subjective 
vocabulary. 

Compare  these  two  stanzas,  from  Mr.  Arnold's  poem 
'  A  Southern  Night ' : — 

That  comely  face,  that  clustcr'd  brow, 
That  cordial  hand,  that  bearing  free, 
I  see  them  still,  I  see  them  now, 
Shall  always  see ! 

And  what  but  gentleness  imtired, 

And  what  but  noble  feeling  warm, 
Wherever  shown,  howe'er  inspired, 
Is  grace,  is  charm  ? 

In  the  first  stanza,  the  language  is  objective,  with  as- 
sociated feelings ;  in  the  second,  it  is  almost  purely  subjec- 
tive. 

Among  Figures  of  Contiguity  were  ranked  the  putting 
of  the  outward  sign  of  a  passion  for  the  passion  itself.  The 
advantage  consists  in  giving  a  fictitious  objectivity  to  the 
mental  fact. 

3.  Both  Concreteness  and  Objectivity  may  be  pro- 
moted by  the  manner  of  treatment. 

In  dealing  with  an  abstract  principle  even,  we  may  pro- 
ceed by  selecting  an  example  in  the  concrete,  and  handling  it 
so  as  to  typify  the  principle.  This  method  is  frequent  with 
all  the  poets ;  see,  for  example,  the  sonnet  of  Wordsworth 
'  To  Toussaint  I'Ouverture  '. 

Dryden's  two  'Songs  for  St.  Cecilia's  day'  may  be  quoted. 
Both  are  in  illustration  of  the  power  of  Music.  In  one 
we  have  the  general  principle  announced,  and  then  illus- 
trated by  a  number  of  examples  showing  how  music  stirs  up 
a  great  variety  of  emotions.  In  the  other  ('  Alexander's 
Feast'),  an  individual  example  is  fully  described,  to  show 
the  varied  power  of  music  in  this  single  case,  the  general 
principle  being  indicated  only  at  the  close.  The  advantage 
of  the  latter  plan  is  obvious. 

Dryden's  eulogy  of  Milton  — 

Three  poets,  in  three  distant  ages  bom — 

may  be  contrasted  with  Milton's  own  '  Epitaph  on  Shake- 
speare '.  Dryden  proceeds  by  the  method  of  analyzing  and 
comparing  Homer,  Virgil  and  Milton  —  a  method  both 
abstract  and  subjective ;  while  Milton  simply  fixes  attention 


ACCUMULATION   AND   COMBINATION.  19 

on  the  works  of  Shakespeare  as  producing  effects  so  powerful 
that  they  render  all  other  monuments  of  him  unnecessary. 
The  result  is  that  Dryden  appeals  to  our  reason ;  while 
Milton  touches  our  feelings. 

For  examples  of  Concreteness  and  Ohjectivity  in  setting 
forth  general  and  subjective  ideas,  we  may  refer  to  'L' Allegro' 
and  '  II  Penseroso '. 

Objectivity  is  a  special  feature  of  Eossetti.  'The  Blessed 
Damozel '  may  be  taken  as  an  instance ;  the  strongly 
sensuous  description  being  the  more  noticeable,  since  the 
scene  lies  in  the  world  of  spirits. 

Wordsworth's  '  Ode  to  Duty  '  deals  in  abstract  phraseo- 
logy— victory,  law,  humanity,  truth,  love,  impulse,  nature, 
freedom,  thought,  reason,  self-sacrifice ;  the  abstractions 
being  redeemed  by  the  strength  of  the  feelings  associated 
with  these  terms. 

There  is  an  excess  of  abstractness  in  the  following  from 
Addison : — 

Oh,  Liherfy,  thou  goddess  heavenly  bright, 
Profuse  of  bliss  and  pregnant  with  delight, 
Eternal  pleasures  in  thy  presence  reign, 
And  smiling  Plenty  leads  thy  wanton  train : 
Eased  of  her  load,  Subjection  grows  more  light, 
And  Poverty  looks  cheerful  in  thy  sight ; 
Thou  mak'st  the  gloomy  face  of  nature  gay, 
Giv'st  beauty  to  the  scene  and  pleasure  to  the  day. 

The  weakening  effect  is  only  partly  relieved  by  the  personi- 
fication. 

4.  For  the  prodnction  of  strong  effects  on  the 
feelings,  it  is  requisite  to  Accumulate  and  Combine 
ideas  and  images. 

Earely  can  an  isolated  object  or  impression  rouse  the 
mind's  energies.  In  poetry,  as  in  other  attempts  to  awaken 
a  vast  mass  of  emotion,  it  is  the  practice  to  multiply  and 
unite  influential  circumstances.  (See  Number  of  "Wokds, 
p.  32.) 

Take  the  following  from  Pope  : — 

What  sounds  were  heard, 
What  scenes  appear'd. 
O'er  all  the  dreary  coast  1 
Dreadful  gleams, 
Dismal  screams, 
Fires  that  glow, 


20  AIDS   TO   QUALITIES — C0NCEETENES3, 

Shrieks  of  woe, 
Sullen  moans, 
Hollow  groans, 
And  cries  of  tortured  ghosts  ! 

Nothing  could  be  more  powerful,  nothing  more  effective  in 
impressing  us  with  the  nature  of  that  region  whither 
Orpheus  went  in  quest  of  Eurydice.  The  effect  is  cumula- 
tive, and  grand. 

Another  example  may  be  given  from  Byron's  '  Isles  of 
Greece '.  The  emotion  of  sorrow  for  the  subjection  of 
modern  Greece  is  stirred  up  by  the  accumulation  of  appro- 
priate facts  from  ancient  Greek  history,  and  fitting  allusions 
to  contemporary  circumstances.  All  are  intended  to  bear 
on  the  main  feeling,  and  that  feeling  is  deepened  by  the 
accumulated  expression. 

Again,  the  feelings  of  forsaken  love  are  expressed  in 
'  CEnone '  by  a  varied  combination  of  thoughts  and  images 
fitted  to  her  situation.  Grief  for  a  lost  fi'iend  finds  a  mani- 
fold   utterance    in    Tennyson's   'In   Memoriam,'    Shelley's 

*  Adonais,'  and  Milton's  '  Lycidas '. 

The  characteristic  of  Cumulation  and  Combination, 
illustrated  on  the  large  scale  in  these  examples,  is  found  in 
the  shortest  compositions  intended  to  operate  on  the  feelings. 
Take  the  passage  from  Milton  on  his  blindness  {Paradise 
Lost,  III.  41),  to  show  how  in  the  shortest  passages  cumu- 
lation of  appropriate  circumstances  is  necessary  to  the 
production  of  feeling,  and  natural  to  its  expression  : — 

Seasons  return ;  but  not  to  me  returns 
Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  ev'n  or  mom, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine. 

Poetic  epithets  serve,  among  other  things,  the  purpose 
of  accumulating  appropritite  particulars.  The  Homeric 
poetry  most  fully  exemplifies  the  usage ;  but  it  has  been 
more  or  less  followed  by  all  poets. 

Combination,  in  order  to  be  effective,  is  subject  to 
certain  conditions,  the  chief  being  Harmony  and  the  avoid- 
ance of  overcrowding.     (Hakmony.) 

Closely  allied  to  this  is  the  creation  of  strong  feeling  by 
partieuJurizimj  objects  ;  more  especially,  when  this  is  ac- 
companied with  the  tautologies  of  intense  passion.  An 
effect  of  this  kind  occurs  in  the  following  lines  from  Pope's 

*  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's  day  ' : — 


PABTICULAEIZING   OF    OBJECTS.  21 

Eurydice  still  trembled  on  his  tongue  ; 

Eurydice  the  woods, 

Eurydice  the  floods, 
Eurydice  the  rocks,  and  hollow  mountains  rung. 

So,  in  Hamlet — 

'Tis  not  alone  my  inky  cloak,  good  mother, 
Nor  customary  suits  of  solemn  black. 
Nor  windy  suspiration  of  forced  breath  ; 
No,  nor  the  fruitful  river  in  the  eye, 
Nor  the  dejected  haviour  of  the  visage,  &c. 

Of  this  kind  of  effect,  Coleridge  says :  '  Such  repeti- 
tions I  admit  to  be  a  beauty  of  the  highest  kind  ;  as  illus- 
trated by  Mr.  Wordsworth  himself  from  the  song  of  Deborah. 
"  At  her  feet  he  bowed,  he  fell,  he  lay  down  :  at  her  feet  he 
bowed,  he  fell :  where  he  bowed,  there  he  fell  down  dead."  ' 


PEESONIFICATION. 

1.  Our  deep  and  permanent  impression  of  the  fea- 
tm-es  and  aspects  of  persons,  coupled  with  emotional 
interest,  leads  to  the  transfer  of  human  feelings  to 
Inanimate  things. 

This  is  named  Personification,  and  enters  into  all 

the  emotional  Qualities. 

The  interest  of  Nature  will  recur  at  various  points  in  the  exposi- 
tion. It  is  enough  here  to  distingiush  the  two  modes  of  its  operating, 
in  accordance  with  the  two  intellectual  forces,  named  Similarity  and 
Contiguity.  (See  Figures  op  Speech,  p.  135.)  Similarity  or  Re- 
semblance is  the  groundwork  of  Personification  as  now  to  be  explahied. 
Contiguous  Association  expresses  an  entirely  different  class  of  emotional 
effects — those  arising  from  the  habitual  conjunction  of  outward  things 
with  our  feelings,  as  the  various  localities  where  we  have  passed  our 
days,  and  the  objects  that  mark  the  recurrence  of  our  avocations. 
(See  Art  Emotions  Classipied,  g  15,  p.  9.) 

A  mountain  viewed  as  a  gravitating  mass,  of  a  certain 
magnitude,  and  made  up  of  particular  materials,  has  a  kind 
of  interest  from  its  bearings  on  industrial  utility  or  natural 
defence  ;  but  these  are  not  the  precise  circumstances  that 
make  it  sublime,  or  grand,  or  imposing.  A  great  engineer 
gave  as  his  idea  of  a  river  that  it  was  intended  to  feed 
canals  ;  this  is  considerably  remote  from  the  conception  of 
a  poetic  or  artistic  mind.  Tennyson's  '  Brook '  will  at 
once  show  the  contrast. 


22  AIDS   TO   QUALITIES— PERSONIFICATION. 

The  human  form,  physiognomy,  movements  and  ex- 
pression, are  not  mei'ely  repeated  in  less  perfect  resem- 
blance in  the  lower  animals,  but  imitated  in  the  vegetable 
and  mineral  worlds,  although  with  considerable  disparity  : 
while  our  sociable  emotions  are  evoked  by  such  resemblances 
and  imitations. 

In  imitating  humanity  by  dead  matter,  the  fullest  re- 
production is  a  coloured  model,  which  can  give  a  single 
aspect  of  an  individual  person  with  exactness  of  detail. 
Next  is  the  ordinary  painter's  portrait,  by  which  we  are 
affected  nearly  in  the  same  way  as  by  the  original.  In  the 
absence  of  colour,  mere  form,  as  in  a  statue,  or  an  outline 
drawing,  will  awaken  the  emotions  of  personality.  On 
such  foundations  are  reared  the  corresponding  Fine  Arts, 
by  whose  means  our  interest  in  persons  is  greatly  multiplied. 

The  child's  doll  is  an  example  of  personification,  based 
on  resemblance  to  living  humanity,  whereby  a  fictitious 
relationship  of  mother  and  child  is  made  up  and  acted  on, 
so  as  to  gratify  the  nascent  pleasures  of  maternity. 

There  is  a  step  beyond  all  such  purposed  resemblances. 
Any  accidental  similarity  to  a  human  feature  arising  in  the 
outer  world  has  the  power  of  suggesting  humanity  and  so 
enlarging  our  human  interest.  A  face  in  a  rock  ;  the  branch- 
ing arms  of  a  tree  ;  the  upright  attitude,  massive  form  and 
supporting  agency  of  a  column  ;  the  drooping  head  of  a 
flower  ;  the  semblance  of  an  open,  yawning  mouth,  or  a 
pair  of  eyes, — are  able  to  awaken  our  conceptions  of  hu- 
manity with  its  perennial  emotions. 

Yet  more  effective  than  resemblances  to  form  and  features 
in  stillness,  is  the  suggestion  of  Movement  and  force  by 
material  objects.  Action  is  always  more  exciting  than  re- 
pose ;  the  forces  of  Nature  awaken  in  us  the  sense  of  power, 
whclher  as  exerted  by  ourselves  or  by  our  feilow^s.  A  rush- 
ing stream,  the  tides  and  waves  of  the  ocean,  the  tempests 
of  wind,  the  volcanic  upheavings,  the  agency  of  steam 
roower,  the  electric  battery,  the  explosives  of  chemistry, — are 
suggestive  of  energy,  and  may  receive  from  us  a  personal 
interpretation. 

Even  dead  w-eight,  pressure,  resistance,  as  in  mountain 
masses,  is  conceived  as  analogous  to  the  exercise  of  human 
might. 

Strange  to  say,  the  enormous  disparity  in  all  the  ac- 
companying  circumstances    docs    not   interfere    with    our 


NEED   OF    STRONG   EMOTION.  23 

tracing  resemblances  to  humanity,  and  indulging  the  corre- 
sponding emotions.  So  pleased  are  we  to  have  our  human 
affections  continually  kept  in  exercise,  that  we  draw 
nourishment  for  them  from  the  most  unlikely  sources. 
Nevertheless,  the  disparity  needs  to  be  taken  into  account, 
as  an  abatement  of  the  influence. 

In  Pagan  times,  natural  objects— as  the  Siin,  the  Moon,  the  Stars, 
the  Sky,  the  Ocean,  rivers,  trees,  groves — were  endowed  vrith  mind, 
and  regarded  as  deities.  This  effect  (it  is  now  supposed),  grew  out  of  a 
class  of  influences  distinct  from  the  foregoing.  Nevertheless,  it 
operated  in  the  way  of  imparting  human  emotions  and  purposes  to  the 
oijjects  of  inanimate  nature ;  and  the  idea  is  fictitiously  retained  m 
poetry,  while  the  belief  has  passed  away. 

The  worship  of  stocks  and  stones  is  now  shown  to  be  not 
personification,  as  sometimes  believed,  but  hallowed  personal 
associations.  The  same  also  with  sacred  spots,  groves  and 
fountains,  connected  with  some  deity. 

Wordsworth  left  behind  him  an  inscription  on  a  piece  of 
shapeless  rock.  It  had  struck  his  fancy  somehow,  from 
constantly  meeting  his  eye  in  his  walks. 

And  from  the  builder's  hand  this  Stone, 
For  some  nidc  beauty  of  Us  own, 
Was  rescued  by  the  Bard. 

The  interest  could  hardly  amount  to  personification ;  yet, 
by  the  play  of  his  own  feelings  while  gazing  upon  it,  he 
could  work  himself  into  an  emotional  fervour. 

2.  The  principal  conditions  for  the  effective  emplo}^- 
ment  of  Personification  in  awakening  emotion  are,  first, 
the  stimulus  of  some  great  leading  emotion. 

To  give  the  interest  aimed  at  in  poetry  through  this 
special  means,  the  imitation  must  express  or  embody  one 
or  more  of  our  chief  emotions — Power,  Malevolence  or 
Love.  It  requires  a  strong  feeling  to  break  through  the 
immense  difi'erence  between  an  oak  and  a  powerful  man, 
the  sighing  of  the  wind  and  a  sorrowful  utterance  from  a 
being  like  ourselves  ;  whence  the  most  emotional  natures 
are  the  most  readily  touched.  Shelley  and  Wordsworth 
indulge  in  flights  of  Personification  that  colder  minds 
cannot  approach  or  easily  sympathise  with.  See,  for 
example,  Wordsworth's  '  Lines  Written  in  Early  Spring,' 
where  we  have  this  saying — 

And  'tis  my  faith  that  every  flower 
Enjoys  the  air  it  breathes  ; 


24  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES — PEBSONIFICATION. 

and  this — 

The  budding  twigs  spread  out  tlieir  fan 

To  catch  the  breezy  air  ; 
And  I  must  think,  do  all  I  can. 

That  there  loas  pleasure  there. 

In  fact,  the  Nature  interest  of  Wordsworth  is  for  the  most 
part  mingled  with  human  thought  and  feeling.  Hence,  in 
the  '  Ode  on  Immortality,'  he  bursts  forth — 

Thanks  to  the  human  heart  by  ichich  ive  live, 
I'hanks  to  its  teitdcrncss,  its  joys,  and  fears, 
To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears. 

But,  apart  from  such  interest  in  nature,  a  bold  per- 
sonification needs  strong  feeling  to  support  it,  as  in  these 
examples. 

Browning  thus  represents  the  feelings  of  a  lady  whose 
honour  has  been  assailed,  when  a  champion  suddenly  steps 
forward  to  vindicate  her  cause  : — 

North,  South, 
East,  West,  I  looked.     The  lie  was  dead, 
And  damned,  and  truth  stood  up  instead. 

A  lover  serenading  his  mistress,  and  receiving  no 
response,  is  made  by  the  same  poet  to  speak  thus  : 

Oh,  how  dark  your  villa  was, 

Windows  fast  and  obdurate  ! 
How  the  garden  grudged  me  grass 

Where  I  stood— the  iron  gate 
Ground  its  teeth  to  let  me  pass  1 

There  is  dramatic  propriety  in  thus  representing  strong 
feelin«  as  interpreting  nature  in  harmony  wdth  itself.  The 
play  of  fancy  in  the  last  line  carries  the  principle  to  its 
extreme  length. 

The  same  dramatic  propriety  leads  to  the  combination 
of  Hyperbole  with  Personification  in  the  expression  of  love. 
Tor  example,  in  '  Maud  ' — 

The  slender  acacia  woiild  not  shake 

One  long  milk-bloom  on  the  tree  ; 
The  wliite  lake-blossom  fell  into  the  lake, 

As  the  pimpernel  dozed  on  the  lea  ; 
But  the  rose  was  awake  all  night  for  your  sake, 

Knowhig  your  promise  to  mo  ; 
The  lilies  and  roses  were  all  awake, 

They  sighed  for  the  dawn  and  thee. 


DEGREE    OP    SIMILARITY.  25 

The  personifications  of  intense  sorrow  may  be  seen 
abundantly  in  Shelley's  '  Adonais '. 

3.  Second.  The  amount  of  similarity,  as  compared 
with  the  diversity,  must  be  enough  to  justify  the  de- 
parture from  actual  fact. 

The  personifying  process,  being  a  case  of  similitude,  is 
subject  to  the  laws  formerly  laid  down  for  Figures  of  Simi- 
larity. Great  disparity  or  irrelevance  is  hostile  to  the 
success  of  the  operation.  There  is  a  conflict  between  the 
avidity  of  the  mind  for  the  emotional  effect  and  the  repug- 
nance caused  by  the  accompanying  unlikeness. 

In  the  sustained  Personification  of  Wordsworth's  '  Ode 
to  Duty,'  the  similarity  is  occasionally  vague.  For  ex- 
ample : — 

Thou  dost  preserve  the  Stars  from  wrong; 

And  the  most  ancient  Heavens  through  Thee  are  fresh  and  strong. 

In  Ossian,  Personification  is  often  used  with  insufficient 
basis  of  resemblance :  as — '  Eise,  Moon,  thou  daughter  of 
ike  sliii,  look  from  between  thy  clouds  '. 

The   effect   of    the   sun   beating   on   a   rider   during   a 
desperate  ride,  is  thus  expressed  by  Browning : 
The  broad  sun  above  laughed  a  pitiless  laugh. 
The  similarity,  though  not  great,  is  fitting,  and  the  personi- 
fication appropriate. 

As  with  other  similitudes,  less  of  actual  resemblance  is 
demanded,  provided  some  striking  effect  is  gained  by  the 
personification.     Thus  Keats  says  of  the  nightingale  : — 

She  sings  but  to  her  love,  nor  e'er  conceives 
How  tip-toe  night  holds  back  her  dark-grey  hood. 

4.  Third.  The  effect  is  favoured  by  a  measured 
comparison  with  human  might. 

When  the  great  impersonal  powers — as  the  ocean,  the 
rivers,  the  winds,  earthquakes — come  into  comparison  or 
collision  with  human  beings  singly  or  collectively,  and 
establish  their  vast  superiority,  the  feeling  of  might  is  more 
strongly  brought  home  to  our  minds. 

It  is  this  effect  that  Byron  works  up  in  the  stanzas  on 
the  Ocean.  There  is  personification  throughout,  and 
comparison  is  sustained  by  such  touches  as  this  :  '  Ten 
thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain  '. 


26  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES — PEESONIFICATION. 

5.  Fourth.  Much  is  gained  by  Succession  to  a 
Climax. 

The  influence  of  great  quahties  is  enhanced  by  their 
being  presented  as  the  highest  term  of  a  succession,  pro- 
ceeding by  gradual  increase.  The  effect  of  a  mountain 
height  depends  upon  the  number  of  intermediate  heights 
that  lead  up  to  it. 

The  following,  from  Shelley,  shows  the  climactic  arrange- 
ment ; — 

Yet  I  endure. 
I  ask  the  earth,  have  not  the  momitains  felt  ? 
I  ask  yon  Heaven,  the  all-beholding  Sun, 
Has  it  not  seen  ?    The  Sea,  in  storm  or  calm, 
Heaven's  ever-changmg  Shadow,  spread  below, 
Have  its  deaf  waves  not  heard  my  agony  ? 

6.  In  order  to  put  these  conditions  further  to  the 
test,  we  have  to  distinguish  betw^een  the  two  modes  or 
degrees  of  Personification. 

I.  The  ascription  of  feelings  and  will,  together  with 
distinction  of  gender. 

This  is  seen  at  its  highest  pitch  in  Hebrew  poetry. 
For  example  :  '  The  mountains  and  the  hills  shall  break 
forth  before  you  into  singing,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  field 
shall  clap  their  hands  '.  '  The  whole  earth  is  at  x'est  and 
is  quiet ;  they  break  forth  before  thee  into  singing.  Yea,  the 
fir  trees  rejoice  at  thee  and  the  cedars  of  Lebanon,  saying, 
Since  thou  art  laid  down,  no  feller  is  come  against  us.'  The 
opening  chapter  of  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah  abounds 
in  personification  of  the  boldest  kiud  :  '  How  doth  the  city 
sit  solitary  that  was  full  of  people  !  how  is  she  become  as 
a  widow !  she  that  was  great  among  the  nations,  and 
princess  among  the  provinces,  how  is  she  become  tributary  ! 
She  weejDeth  sore  in  the  night,  and  her  tears  are  on  her 
cheeks,'  &c. 

This  is  to  substitute  a  people  collectively  for  an  in- 
dividual, and  is  not  a  great  departure  from  literality,  while 
the  intensity  of  the  emotion  justifies  the  boldness  of  the 
figure. 

The  highest  pitch  is  reached  in  such  passages  as  the 
first  of  these,  representing  the  hills  singing  and  the  trees 
clapping  their  hands.  To  take  such  a  licence  supposes  an 
extreme  and  exuberant  outburst  of  joy. 


HIGHEST   FORM   OP   THE    EFFECT.  27 

Shelley's  'Ode  to  the  West  Wind,'  'The  Sensitive  Plant' 
and  '  The  Cloud '  are  examples  of  bold  personification  sus- 
tained throughout.  The  '  Cloud '  is  the  most  coherent ;  but 
it  passes  from  pure  personification  to  ingenious  tracing  of 
cause  and  effect,  expressed  in  highly  poetic  phrase  :— 

I  sift  the  snow  on  the  mountains  below, 
And  their  great  pmes  groan  aghast. 

The  literal  and  the  metaphorical  are  here  mixed  up 
together,  and  the  proper  personality  is  not  developed.  We 
sympathize  with  the  effects  so  described,  and  regard  them  as 
indications  of  some  internal  power,  but  what  we  feel  is  a 
surprise  of  causation,  rather  than  an  inspiration  of  personal 
might. 

There  is  a  greater  approach  to  the  personifying  effect  in 
such  lines  as  : — 

And  all  the  night  'tis  my  pillow  white, 
As  I  sleep  m  the  arms  of  the  blast. 

This  is  poetical,  or  nothing;  it  is  different  from  the  mere 
garnishing  of  a  physical  sequence. 

Tennyson's  'Talking  Oak'  is  equally  devoid  of  the 
quality  of  personification.  It  is  simply  a  device  for  bringing 
out  the  lover's  feelings  in  dramatic  form  ;  a  pillar,  or  other 
commanding  object,  would  have  equally  suited  the  purpose. 
The  oak  is  personified  poetically,  when  its  parts  of  re- 
semblance to  humanity  (remote  though  they  be)  are  so 
expressed  as  to  recall  human  qualities — erectness,  branch- 
ing arms,  resistance  to  the  elements,  endurance,  gnarled 
robustness. 

It  will  be  seen  that  personification  does  not  consist  in 
making  insentient  objects  perform  all  the  minute  actions  of 
men  or  animals,  but  in  the  seizing  of  such  features  as  have 
a  real  likeness  to  the  human  form,  energies  and  expression — 
the  moan  of  the  sea,  the  sigh  of  the  wind,  the  dash  of  the 
cataract.  It  flourishes  better  on  passing  allusion  than  on 
detailed  description  :  although  the  modern  nature  poets,  as 
contrasted  with  the  ancients,  have  worked  the  interest  to  a 
great  degree  of  minuteness. 

7.  Besides  natural  objects,  personification  is  largely 
extended  to  Abstractions. 

The  abstract  notions — Life,  Death,  Love.  Anger,  Friend- 
ship, Eehgion,  Knowledge,  Virtue,  Liberty,  Wisdom,  Genius, 


28  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES — PERSONIFICATION. 

Hope,  Pleasure,  Evil — lend  themselves  to  personification,  in 
consequence  of  their  being  attributes  of  human  beings. 
They  derive  a  slight  touch  of  vivacity  by  being  regarded  as 
persons.  The  occasion  must  admit  of  an  elated  strain  of 
feeling  ;  not  more,  however,  than  is  habitual  to  poetry. 

Can  Wisdom  lend  with  all  her  boasted  power  ? 
Let  not  Ambition  mock  their  useful  toil. 
Begone  dull  Care. 
"When  leagued  Oppression  poured  to  northern  wars. 

We  have  already  seen  the  double  effect  of  brevity  and 
concentration  on  w^hat  is  essential,  arising  from  the  em- 
ployment of  abstract  terms  for  the  corresponding  concrete 
(See  FiGUEES  op  Similarity,  p.  184.)  The  same  advantages 
accrue  by  the  still  higher  flight  of  personification. 

The  same  effect  may  be  produced  with  abstractions  taken 
from  attributes  of  the  lower  animals.     For  example  : — 

Amid  the  roses,  fierce  repentance  rears 
Her  snaky  crest. 

In  Collins's  '  Ode  to  the  Passions,'  the  selection  of  attri- 
butes are  very  much  at  random ;  but  the  detailed  effects  of 
each  are  more  tersely  given  by  the  abstract  form,  and  the 
delineation  falls  easily  under  the  personal  treatment. 

Time,  Eternity,  Force,  Night,  Space,  Immensity, — are 
farther  removed  from  persons  than  the  foregoing  ;  yet,  under 
circumstances  that  justify  the  bolder  figures,  they  can  be 
personified  with  effect.  The  vastness  of  the  conceptions  that 
they  include  causes  them  to  take  rank  with  the  loftiest 
agencies  of  the  world,  and  they  enter  largely  into  the 
vocabulary  of  the  Sublime. 

Milton's  'Hail,  Holy  Light,'  is  not  strictly  an  ab- 
straction. It  personifies  the  most  elevated  of  the  powers 
of  Nature.  Heat  and  Magnetism  might  be  equally  per- 
sonified, if  they  inspired  the  same  intensity  of  emotion.  In 
the  aspect  of  tire,  Heat  is  associated  with  devastating  and 
destructive  power,  and  in  that  capacity  rises  to  personifica- 
tion.    Fire-worship  is  a  form  of  religion. 

The  effective  use  of  personification  to  give  vividness  to 
abstract  ideas,  may  be  studied  in  'L' Allegro'  and  'II  Pen- 
seroso'.  Melancholy,  Darkness,  Care,  Laughter,  Liberty, 
Night,  Morn,  Sleep, — are  some  of  the  ideas  thus  personified. 
Ou  the  other  hand,  the  practice  of  personifying  abstractions 


IKFEBIOK   DEGEEE    OF   THE   EFFECT.  29 

takes  a  different  turn  in  Johnson  and  otlier  eighteenth  century- 
writers.     For  example  : — 

From  bard  to  bard  tbe  frigid  caution  crept, 
Till  declamation  roared,  whilst  passion  slept ; 
Yet  still  did  wtue  deign  the  stage  to  tread ; 
Philosophy  remained,  though  nature  fled. 
But  forced  at  length  her  ancient  reign  to  quit, 
She  saw  great  Faustus  lay  the  ghost  of  wit : 
Exulting  folly  hailed  the  joyful  day. 
And  Pantomime  and  song  confirmed  her  sway. 

If  there  he  any  value  in  this,  it  is  a  species  of  vituperation, 
where  the  personifying  words  are  used  to  give  brevity  and 
compactness. 

The  English  language  possesses  an  advantage  in  personi- 
fication, by  confining  the  masculine  and  feminine  genders  to 
persons.  The  effect  is,  besides,  aided  by  the  possessive  case, 
which  also  is  strictly  applied  only  to  persons.  In  the  fol- 
lowing instance  the  personification  is  weakened  by  the  use 
of  'its'  and  *  it '  instead  of  'her'  and  'she'.  The  neuter 
pronoun  is  used  to  avoid  ambiguity,  but  produces  a  sense 
of  discord  : — 

But  who  can  paint 
Like  Nature  ?     Can  imagination  boast, 
Amid  its  gay  creation,  hues  like  hers? 
Or  can  it  mix  them  with  that  matchless  skill. 
And  lose  them  in  each  other,  as  appears 
In  every  bud  that  blows  ? 

8.  II.  Attributing  to  things  inanimate  some  quality 
of  living  beings. 

The  silent  night,  the  thirsty  ground,  the  angry  sea,  a  dying 
lamp,  a  speaking  likeness,  the  sluggish  Ouse, — exemplify  a 
familiar  operation  of  rendering  objects  more  vivid  by  epithets 
derived  from  persons.  They  are  really  a  special  form  of  the 
Metaphor,  and  must  be  judged  according  to  the  laws  of 
Similitudes.  Like  other  figures  of  resemblance,  they  may 
be  appropriate  and  effective,  or  they  may  be  wholly  useless. 

The  same  strength  of  emotion  as  in  the  higher  form  is 
not  here  necessary. 

The  subtle  tracing  of  human  aspects  in  the  immense 
variety  of  the  vegetable  world — as  indicating  both  strength 
and  pathos — has  been  a  progressing  study  of  the  poets.  It 
is  an  important  region  of  the  far-reaching  Nature  interest, 
which  is  largely  created,  but  not  exhausted,  by  the  personi- 
fying tendency.     (See  Subjects.) 


30  AiDS   TO    QUALITIES — HARMONY. 

HAEMONY. 

1.  Of  all  the  conditions  of  a  work  of  Fine  Art,  the 
most  imperative  is  Haemony. 

A  plurality  of  things  affecting  the  senses  or  the  deeper 
feelings  of  the  mind,  at  the  same  time,  may  be  emotionally 
indifferent  to  each  other.  On  the  other  hand,  they  may  be 
either  harmonious  or  discordant,  according  as  the  feelings 
they  suggest  are  in  agreement  or  opposition. 

The  discovery  was  early  made  that  harmony  is  a  source 
of  pleasure,  discord  a  source  of  pain.  In  a  harmonious 
succession  of  effects,  the  particular  emotion  aroused  is  inten- 
sified by  the  agreement ;  while  in  discordant  effects,  the 
separate  emotional  impressions  are  weakened  by  their  opposi- 
tion. But,  besides  this,  there  is  a  distinct  pleasure  in  the 
feeling  of  emotional  unison,  and  a  corresponding  pain  when 
it  is  conspicuously  wanting.  In  their  extreme  manifesta- 
tions, the  pleasure  or  the  pain  may  be  very  acute.  Artists 
have  endeavoured  in  their  productions  to  superadd  the  plea- 
sure of  harmony  to  the  gratification  of  the  simple  feelings. 
Music  is  sweet  sounds  made  sweeter  by  harmony.  Poetry 
possesses  far  wider  scope ;  being,  so  to  speak,  made  up  of — 

high  and  passionate  thoughts 
To  their  own  music  chanted. 

The  pleasure  of  harmony,  like  the  pleasure  of  beauty  as  a 
whole,  increases  at  a  rapid  rate  by  delicacy  of  adjustment; 
and  contrariwise  with  tbe  pain  of  discords. 

The  subject  has  already  come  up,  under  Figures  op 
Similarity.  It  will  appear  again,  with  reference  to  the 
sound  of  language,  under  the  head  of  Melody. 

Harmony  has  to  be  considered  on  the  great  scale,  in  the 
adjustment  of  the  parts  of  a  lengthened  composition,  as  an 
Epic,  a  Drama  or  a  Novel.  The  Plot  and  Incidents  must 
all  work  towards  one  result ;  Characters  have  to  be  made 
self-consistent ;  the  Scenery  and  Surroundings  adapted  to 
the  tenor  of  the  events  ;  the  Language  generally  fitted  to  the 
Emotions  to  be  roused.  On  the  small  scale,  every  distinct 
utterance — every  stanza,  sentence  or  line — has  to  be  har- 
moniously constructed,  if  the  highest  efi'ects  of  poetry  are  to 
be  realized.  It  is  in  the  study  of  these  minute  harmonies 
that  rhetorical  art  can  be  best  exhibited. 


COMPATIBLE    AND    INCOMPATIBLE   EMOTIONS.  81 

2.  There  are  certain  assignable  emotions  that  are 
congruous,  and  certain  others  that  are  incompatible  ; 
but  it  is  in  the  nice  emotional  meanings  and  associa- 
tions of  words,  images  and  phrases  that  the  most 
delicate  taste  of  harmony  lies. 

The  poet  must  be  on  a  clear  understanding  with  his 
audience,  and  they  with  him,  in  respect  to  all  the  emotional 
associations  of  words.  Hence,  the  need  of  an  education  on 
both  sides. 

To  produce  an  effect  of  sublime  grandeur,  the  images  and 
the  phraseology  must  be  tinctured  with  the  special  emotion. 
Above  all,  there  must  be  an  entire  absence  of  everything 
that  would  suggest  the  commonplace,  the  mean,  the  little, 
the  grovelling.     Hence  the  weakness  of  the  following : — • 

Graced  as  thou  art  with  all  the  power  of  wordis, 
So  known,  so  honoured,  at  the  House  of  Lords* 

The  same  writer  says  of  the  divine  power  that  it- 
Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze. 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees, 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent ; 
Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part, 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  a  hair  as  heart. 

The  last  line  is  felt  as  a  descent  from  the  grandeur  of  the 
previous  description,  and  this  uupleasing  effect  is  increased 
by  the  alliteration. 

Strength  and  Pathos  will  be  found  to  be  so  far  opposed, 
that,  in  their  more  decided  forms,  they  must  not  concur  in 
the  same  situation ;  they  may,  however,  succeed  one  another 
by  a  rapid  transition,  or  be  mutually  modified  till  they  cease 
to  conflict.  The  extremes  of  malevolence  and  love  or 
affection  must  not  meet  without  an  interval  for  the  mind  to 
accommodate  itself,  while  the  objects  of  the  two  must  be 
different ;  yet  the  milder  phases  of  the  feelings  are  not 
incompatible. 

*  "It seems  incredible  that  Pope  could  have  allowed  this  piece  of  bathos  to 
escape  from  his  pen.  The  specimen  of  anticlimax  given  in  Scriblerus,  '  Art  of  Sink- 
ing '  (Koscoe,  5,  257), 

'  And  thou,  Dalhousie,  the  great  god  of  war, 
Lieutenant-Colonel  to  the  Rarl  of  Mar,' 
is  not  more  ridiculous  than  that  here  committed  by  Pope  himself."  (Mark  Pattison.) 


32  AIDS    TO   QUALITIES — HAEMONT. 

Browning's  *  Lost  Leader '  illustrates  both  points.  In 
the  fii'st  place,  there  is,  throughout,  a  combination  of  Strength 
and  Pathos  without  discord.  Strength  is  felt  in  the  form 
of  moral  indignation  and  quiet  confidence  of  success ;  Pathos 
in  the  sadness  of  a  great  man's  apostasy.     Thus — 

Shakespeare  was  of  us,  Milton  was  for  us, 

Bums,  Shelley,  were  with  us, — they  watch  from  their  graves  1 
He  alone  breaks  from  the  van  and  the  freemen, 

He  alone  sinks  to  the  rear  and  the  slaves. 

The  strength  and  the  pathos  are  both  of  the  calmer  sort ; 
the  more  intense  forms  of  either  feeling  could  not  so  easily 
blend  without  contradiction.  Further,  the  poem  shows  the 
combination  of  anger  and  affection  ;  but  the  anger  shades 
into  sorrow,  and  the  affection  appears  in  the  form  of  pity. 
For  example : — 

Life's  night  begins  :  let  him  never  come  back  to  us  I 
There  would  be  doubt,  hesitation  and  pam. 

Forced  praise  on  our  part — the  glimmer  of  twilight, 
Never  glad,  coixfident  morning  again. 

Among  animals,  the  mother  tending  her  young  is  liable 
to  rapid  transitions  from  affection  to  resentment.  This  is 
the  rude  type  of  chivalry,  which  combines  the  gi-atification 
of  the  two  opposing  emotions —love  and  hate,  amity  and 
enmity. 

The  gay  or  light-hearted  condition  of  mind  is  incom- 
patible with  grief,  anxiety  and  seriousness. 

There  is  a  strong  incompatibility  between  the  warmth  of 
feeling  and  the  coldness  of  scientific  or  matter-of-fact  calcula- 
tion. The  language  of  emotion  must  be  carefully  freed  from 
cold  scientific  phraseology. 

Equally  opposed  to  feeling  is  the  statement  of  qualifying 
conditions.  Herein  is  one  great  conti"ast  between  poetry 
and  the  ordinary  prose. 

In  Shelley's  '  Skylark,'  the  limitation  contained  in  the 
opening  stanza  is  slightly  out  of  harmony  with  the  strong 
feeling  expressed  : — 

Hail  to  thee,  blithe  spirit, 

Bird  thou  never  wert, 
That  from  heaven,  or  near  it, 

Pourest  thy  full  heart. 

The  following,  from  Keats,  contains  a  markedly  jarring 
element,  owing  to  the  introduction  of  a  cold  prosaic 
expression : — 


HAEMONY   A   PART   OF   POLISH.  33 

Fresh  carved  cedar,  mimicking  a  glade 
Of  palm  and  plantain,  met  from  either  side, 
High  in  the  midst,  in  honour  of  the  bride  : 
Two  palms  and  then  two  plantains,  and  so  on, 
From  either  side  their  stems  branched  one  by  one. 

Shelley,  in  a  passage  of  strong  feeling,  thus  writes  : — 

Antonia  stood  and  wotdd  have  spoken,  when 
The  compound  voice  of  women  and  of  men 
Was  heard  approaching. 

The  word  '  compound '  is  hardly  in  tune  with  the  occasion. 

Harmony  is  a  principal  feature  in  those  poets  that  are 
said  to  be  correct,  or  polished,  in  contrast  to  such  as 
excel  in  originality  and  profusion  of  thought  and  language. 
To  polish  is  the  work  of  the  later  poets,  when  the  field  of 
invention  has  been  narrowed  by  their  numerous  predecessors. 

The  absence  of  felt  harmony  in  a  succession  of  emotional  effects, 
even  when  there  is  no  discord,  involves  a  loss  of  power.  In  this  passage 
from  Ossian,  the  impression  is  weak  from  the  want  of  distinct  harmony 
among  the  ideas,  as  well  as  from  the  vagueness  and  exaggeration  of 
the  comparisons : — '  As  a  hundred  wmds  on  Morven ;  as  the  streams  of 
a  hundred  hills ;  as  clouds  fly  successive  over  heSven  ;  as  the  dark 
ocean  assails  the  shore  of  the  desert;  so  roaring,  so  vast,  so  terrible, 
the  armies  mixed,  on  Lena's  echoing  heath '.  In  Keats's  'Endymion' 
may  be  found  not  unfrequcntly  a  profusion  of  thoughts  impressive 
enough  when  taken  in  separation,  but  having  no  distinctly  felt  emo- 
tional congruity. 

It  is  something  more  than  mere  harmony,  although  still 
included  in  correctness  or  polish,  to  avoid  grating  on  any  of 
our  sensibilities,  while  producing  agreeable  effects.  A  smaller 
amount  of  pleasure  -  giving  touches  will  be  acceptable,  if 
there  be  an  entire  absence  of  jars,  whether  discords  or 
others.  The  grand  opening  of  the  poem  of  Lucretius  is  an 
instance  in  point. 

In  his  determination  to  draw  poetry  from  the  most 
ordinary  facts  and  circumstances,  Wordsworth  sometimes 
introduces  elements  that  jar  on  the  feelings,  without  any 
adequate  compensation.     See  examples  in  '  Simon  Lee '. 

3.  In  setting  forth  subjects  of  a  repugnant  character, 
there  may  be  a  softening  or  alleviating  effect  in  the 
adjustment  of  the  harmonies.  There  may  also  be  the 
opposite. 

As  examples  we  may  quote  Shelley's  '  Sensitive  Plant ' 
and  Tennyson's  '  Mariana  m  the  Moated  Grange '. 
3 


o4  AIDS    TO    QUALITIES — HAEMONY. 

The  first  three  stanzas  of  Shelley's  '  West  Wind '  con- 
tain  harmonies  that  aggravate  rather  than  alleviate  the 
baleful  influences  attributed  to  that  wind. 

The  '  Meeting  of  Witches '  in  Ben  Jonson's  Masque  of 
Queens  is  well  sustained  in  keeping  for  its  particular  purpose. 

The  witch  scenes  in  Macbeth,  and  in  Faust,  are  pur- 
posely made  horrible ;  they  chime  in  with  the  horrors  of  the 
action.  Scenes  that,  in  their  nature,  are  peaceful,  happy 
and  virtuous,  would  appear  incongruous  and  discordant 
unless  worked  up  with  a  view  to  contrast. 

How  far  the  horrible  can  be  carried  in  such  cases,  is 
a  matter  of  delicate  adjustment.  The  permissible  limits 
are  illustrated  in  the  paraphernalia  of  mourning  for  the 
dead ;  the  apparel  of  the  mourner  is  gloomy  and  sombre, 
but  not  loathsome.  There  is  even  costly  refinement  in  the 
weeds  of  the  wealthy.  To  carry  a  skull  in  a  funeral  pro- 
cession would  be  revolting;  to  paint  it  on  the  hearse  is 
thought  fitting. 

The  assemblage  of  monstrous  products  in  the  witches' 
cauldron  is  rendered  endurable  by  not  going  beyond  remote 
suggestion  of  the  horrible.  V/e  hear  of  the  '  liver  of 
blaspheming  Jew,'  '  nose  of  Turk  and  Tcirtar's  lips,'  and 
worst  of  all,  'finger  of  birth-strangled  babe ;' but  the  indi- 
cation is  so  slight  that  imagination  does  not  pursue  the 
hideous  details. 

In  '  Tani  o'  Shanter,'  we  have  an  enumeration  of  yet 
more  repulsive  objects  as  exhibited  at  the  dance  of  *  war- 
locks and  witches '  in  Alloway  Kirk.  There  is  the  same 
ground  for  it  in  the  harmony  with  the  situation ;  but  the 
description  is  given  with  repulsive  details. 

4.  The  harmonious  on  the  great  scale  comprehends 
the  agreeable  effect  of  Unity  in  multitude. 

Unity,  as  already  seen,  applies  to  the  Sentence  and  the 
Paragraph  ;  and  is  an  aid  to  ease  of  comprehension.  In  a 
longer  work,  it  implies  perceptible  adherence  to  a  plan, 
wherein  every  detail  finds  a  suitable  place  and  a  definite 
relation  to  the  whole.  In  the  Dramas  of  Shakespeare, 
there  is  a  well-marked  Unity  of  this  kind  ;  although  the 
unities  of  Time  and  Place,  as  laid  down  by  Aristotle  and  the 
French  critics,  are  little  regarded.  Wordsworth  is  a  good 
example  of  unity  ;  not  so  Shelley. 


coleridge  and  milton.  35 

Examples  of  Harmony  and  Discord. 

First  is  a  short  example  from  Coleridge  : 

Silent  icicles 
Quietly  shining  to  the  quiet  moon. 

There  is  here  a  harmony  of  quietness  or  repose  ;  the  icicles  in 
then*  stilhiess  shining  under  the  ray  of  the  equally  still  moon. 

From  Milton's  'Hymn  on  the  Nativity,'  we  may  quote  the  fol- 
lowing stanza  (5) : 

But  peaceful  was  the  night 
Wherein  the  Prince  of  light 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began. 
The  winds,  with  wonder  whist, 
Smoothly  the  waters  kist, 

Whispermg  new  joys  to  the  mild  Ocean, 
Wlio  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave 
While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave. 

There  is  a  general  harmony  here,  and  nothing  more.  The  winds 
are  still,  the  Ocean  is  mild,  and  the  birds  repose  cahnly  on  the 
wave.  There  is  Milton's  peculiarity  of  introducing  a  contrast  of 
strength  or  violence — 'forgot  to  rave' — by  way  of  heightening  a 
peaceful  picture.  It  proves  the  character  of  his  genius,  that  he 
will  seldom,  if  ever,  be  found  making  a  contrast  when  the  subject 
is  grand  or  terrible ;  he  then  accimiulates  images  all  in  one 
direction.  See,  as  an  example,  among  many,  the  passage  on  Sin 
and  Death. 

His  avoidance  of  realistic  and  painful  harmonizing  horrors,  in 
a  painful  subject,  can  be  abundantly  shown.     Thus,  in  Lycidas  : — 

It  was  that  fatal  and  perfidious  bark, 

B^lilt  in  the  eclipse,  and  rigg'd  with  curses  dark, 

That  sunk  so  low  that  sacred  head  of  thine. 

He  could  hardly  have  said  less  in  denouncing  the  ship  ;  he  spared 
us  the  pain  of  reflecting  on  the  worthless  and  unpruicipled 
builders  or  owners,  and  put  the  blame  upon  fictitious  and  painful 
circumstances. 

The  reserve  of  Shakespeare,  in  such  circmnstances,  already 
alluded  to,  is  strongly  marked  in  the  crownmg  instance  of  the 
terrors  of  death  :  'Ay,  but  to  die'. 

Very  different  from  this  is  the  realistic  description  of  Jeremy 
Taylor  or  Jonathan  Edwards  ;  their  aim  being  persuasion,  and  not 
artistic  pleasure. 

Most  notable  in  Shakespeare  is  his  unfailing  dramatic  back- 
ground of  nature  to  suit  the  incidents  of  the  story.  In  connexion 
with  this  point  in  'Julius  Caesar,'  Mr.  Moulton  makes  the  following 
pertinent   observations   on  the   employment  of  such  harmonies 


36  AIDS    TO    QUALITIES— IDEALITY. 

generally :  "  The  conception  of  nature  as  exliibitiiig  sympathy 
with  sudden  turns  in  human  affairs  is  one  of  the  most  fundamental 
instincts  of  poetry.  To  cite  notable  instances  :  it  is  this  which 
accompanies  with  storm  and  whirlwind  the  climax  to  the  Book  of 
Job,  and  which  leads  Milton  to  make  the  whole  universe  sensible 
of  Adam's  transgi'ession : 

Earth  trembl'd  from  her  entrails,  as  again 

In  pangs,  and  Natur_p  gave  a  second  groan ; 

Sky  lom-ed,  and  muttering  thunder,  some  sad  drops 

Wept  at  completing  of  the  mortal  sin 

Original. 

So,  too,  the  other  end  of  the  world's  history  has  its  appropriate 
accompaniments  :  '  the  sun  shall  be  darkened  and  the  moon  shall 
not  give  her  light,  and  the  stars  shall  be  faUmg  fi-om  heaven '. " 

The  Greek  poets  were  not  wantmg  in  this  harmonious  ad- 
jiistment.  Of  the  'Prometheus'  of  vEschylus,  Symonds  remarks: 
"  The  scenery  of  Iris  drama  is  in  harmony  with  its  stupendous 
subject.  Barren  mountain  summits,  the  sea  outspread  beneath, 
the  sky  with  all  its  stars  above,  silently  falling  snowflalves  and 
tempestitous  winds,  thunder,  and  earthqualve,  and  riven  precipices, 
are  the  images  which  crowd  upon  the  mmd.  In  like  manner  the 
duration  of  time  is  indefinitely  extended.  Kot  years,  but  centui-ies, 
measure  the  continuance  of  the  struggle  between  the  sovereign 
wUl  of  Zeus  and  the  sti^bborn  resistance  of  the  Titan." 

In  Coleridge,  the  delicate  harmony  of  the  thoughts  is  unsur- 
passed ;  yet  the  sweetness  of  the  language,  as  sound  and  metre,  is 
perhaps  still  more  apparent.  For  sustained  harmony  of  imagery 
alone,  we  have  scarcely  a  rival  to  Keats's  'Ode  to  the  Nightingale,' 
more  especially  the  second  stanza. 

Tennyson's  attention  to  Harmony  is  conspicuous.  In  '  In 
Memoriain,'  Sect,  xi.,  we  have  a  picture  of  cahu  despau-ing 
sorrow,  with  scenery  to  harmonize,  which  may  be  contrasted  with 
the  passionate  grief  of  CEnone.  The  '  Lotus-Eaters  '  is  a  study  in 
harmonious  effects.  The  harmonies  with  love  in  its  various  phases 
are  abundant  in   '  Maud  '. 

Gray,  in  the  '  Bard,'  displays  a  want  of  keeping  when  he  winds 
up  his  thriQing  denunciation  of  the  entire  race  of  English  sovereigns 
with  the  fulsome  Hattery  of  Elizabeth.  This  might  have  been 
reserved  to  a  different  occasion. 

The  mixture  of  our  two  vocabularies  is  unfavourable  to  delicate 
harmonious  adjustments.  In  Pathos  especially,  classical  terms  are 
apt  to  have  a  cold  or  jarruig  effect. 

IDEALITY. 

1.  To  depart  from  actual  facts,  -u-itli  a  view  to 
gi-eater  pleasure,  is  the  essence  of  Ideality. 


OCCASIONS    FOE    THE    IDEAL.  37 

The  human  mind  is  at  once  dissatisfied  with  actual 
things,  and  capable  of  taking  delight  in  the  mere  conception 
of  what  is  higher  and  better.  The  poet  accommodates 
himself  to  this  peculiarity,  and  supplies  ideal  pictures ;  he 
brings  to  bear  all  his  special  powers  of  creation,  selection, 
omission,  adaptation  and  elevation  of  circumstances,  to- 
gether with  the  superadded  charm  of  the  poetic  dress,  which 
the  absence  of  restraints  enables  him  to  make  more  perfect. 

In  Scenic  delineation,  besides  completing  the  harmony,  the 
poet  goes  beyond  nature  in  the  richness  of  the  accmnnlation,  and 
coloiu's  the  language  with  glowing  illustrations.  Such  are  the 
chosen  scenes  of  Romance  and  of  Fairy-land,  the  happy  valleys 
and  islands  of  the  Blest,  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperides,  the  Elysian 
fields  and  the  pictures  of  Paradise. 

The  portraying  of  Characters  likewise  undergoes  the  idealiz- 
ing process.  Men  and  women  are  produced  with  larger  intellects, 
greater  virtues,  higher  charms,  than  hfe  can  afford  ;  it  being  agree- 
able and  stimulating  to  contemplate  such  elevated  natures.  The 
bright  points  of  real  character  are  set  forth,  with  omission  of  the 
dark  featm'es ;  strong  qualities  are  given,  without  the  corresponding 
weaknesses ;  and  incompatible  virtues  are  combined  in  the  same 
person.  The  coiu'age  of  youth  is  united  with  the  wisdom  and 
forbearance  of  age.  Lofty  aspirations  and  practical  sense,  rigid 
justice  and  tender  considerations,  the  fortiter  and  the  snaviter,  are 
made  to  come  together,  notwithstanding  the  rarity  of  the  combi- 
nations in  the  actual. 

The  grace  of  the  feminine  character  added  to  the  force  of 
the  man — the  manly,  and  not  the  masculme,  woman — has  been  a 
favourite  ideal  in  aU  ages  ;  it  was  embodied  in  Pallas  Athene 
(Mmerva)  and  in  Artemis  (Diana),  and  is  reproduced  abundantly  in 
our  own  Poetry  and  Romance.  In  one  of  the  Icelandic  Sagas,  we 
have  "a  heroine  possessing  all  the  charms  of  goddess,  demi-goddess, 
earthly  princess  and  amazon  ". 

Human  society  labours  under  a  chronic  want  of  disinterested- 
ness and  mutual  consideration  on  the  part  of  its  members,  and,  as 
an  ideal  compensation,  there  is  a  demand  for  select  or  heightened 
pictures  of  love,  devotedness  and  sympathy. 

The  ideal  of  Story  consists  in  assigning  the  fortunes  and 
destinies  of  individuals  with  greater  liberality  and  stricter  equity 
than  mider  the  real  or  actual.  The  miseries  as  weU  as  the 
flatness  of  life  are  passed  over,  or  redeemed  ;  the  moments  of 
felicity  are  represented  as  if  they  were  the  rule  ;  poetic  justice  is 
supreme,  and  measures  out  to  each  man  his  deserts  ;  mixed  and 
bad  characters  are  admitted  along  with  the  good,  but  all  are  dealt 
with  as  the  poet's,  wliich  is  also  the  reader's,  sense  of  justice 
demands. 

The  severe  and  difficult  virtues  of  Prudence,  Judgment  and 


38  AIDS    TO    QUALITIES — IDEALITY. 

Calculation  are  slighted  ;  and  snecess  made  to  follow  the  generous 
and  uncalcnlating  impulses  of  the  heart. 

Love,  Beauty  and  Innocence  are  made  triumphant  over 
brute  force  and  savage  ferocity  ;  as  in  the  '  Una  and  the  Lion  '  of 
the  Faerie  Queene. 

The  animals  that  interest  us — the  nightingale,  the  lark,  the 
thrush,  the  robin — are  conceived  as  spendmg  their  hves  in  unbroken 
feMcity. 

Spring  is  surroimded  with  ideal  glories,  on  a  slender  basis  of 
fact. 

The  poor  are  occasionally  assumed  to  have  a  high  order  of 
virtue  peculiar  to  themselves. 

Beneficent  despotism,  absolute  authority  in  good  hands,  is  a 
favourite  ideal.  Or,  as  otherwise  expressed,  '  might  is  right ' ;  '  the 
strong  thing  is  the  tnie  thing '. 

The  Actual  is  marked  by  numerous  and  varied  circiimstances 
and  conditions :  some  favoiirable,  others  unfavoiu'able,  to  our 
happiness.  The  good  and  the  evil  are  inseparable  in  human  life, 
A  monarch,  or  a  man  of  wealth,  possesses  great  means  of  enjoy- 
ment; he  is  no  less  certainly  exposed  to  incidents  that  mar  his 
delights.  The  Ideal  presents  only  the  good  side  of  a  brilliant  lot ; 
thus  giving  rise  to  disappointment  when  brought  into  compai'ison 
with  fact. 

So  great  is  the  charm  of  raany  forms  of  represented  bliss  that 
we  welcome  the  picture,  even  when  we  know  that  it  omits  the 
drawbacks  insepai'able  fi'om  the  reality.  This  is  to  indulge  the  so- 
called  '  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination  '. 

The  Eealistic  picture  is  characterized,  among  other  things,  by 
a  restoration  of  the  omitted  shadows. 

The  contrast  of  the  Ideal  and  the  Eeal  is  finely  touched  in 
Keats's  '  Ode  to  a  Grecian  Urn  ' : — 

Heard  melodies  are  sweet,  but  those  unheard 
Are  sweeter  :  therefore  ye  soft  pipes  play  on. 

2.  Ideality  appears  in  two  distinct  forms ;  orie 
representing  tbe  facts  of  experience  in  greater  perfec- 
tion than  is  really  attained,  the  other  picturing  a  state 
of  things  out  of  all  relation  to  actual  life. 

The  first  of  these  forms  is  seen  in  the  ideal  characters, 
striking  coincidences,  happy  conclusions  and  poetic  justice 
of  ordinary  novels  and  poetry.  These  pictures  are  still 
viewed  as  representations  of  real  life,  notwithstanding  that 
the  characters  and  actions  are  exaggerated  beyond  ordinary 
experience ;  and  the  pleasure  they  give  is  that  illustrated  in 
the  figure  Hypekbole. 

The  other  form  of  Ideality  is  exemplified  in  the  'Arabian 


POWEBFUL  EMOTIONS  NECESSAEY.  39 

Nights,'  '  Gulliver's  Travels  '  (apart  from  their  satirical  pur- 
pose), the  'Faerie  Queene'  and,  in  general,  all  stories  of 
fairies,  genii,  ghosts  and  other  supernatural  agents.  In  such 
cases,  the  stories  have  little,  if  any,  relation  to  natural  life, 
and  the  reader  does  not  think  of  such  a  relation ;  the  pleasures 
they  give  depeiiding  on  other  circumstances.  Such  a  story 
as  Mrs.  Shelley's  'Frankenstein'  and  much  of  Eider 
Haggard's  romances  comes  under  this  head.  Keats's 
'  Endymion '  and  '  Hyperion '  are  of  the  same  class  ;  and, 
indeed,  to  us,  whatever  it  may  have  been  to  the  original 
readers,  such  is  all  the  mythological  poetry  of  the  ancients. 

3.  The  main  conditions  for  all  forms  of  Ideality  are 
the  follow^ing : — 

I.  The  emotions  or  passions  appealed  to  must  be 
naturally  powerful ;  they  must  include  our  deepest  sus- 
ceptibilities :  Love,  Malignity  or  some  form  of  our  many- 
sided  Egotism.  We  can  take  pleasure  in  the  mere  concep- 
tion of  things  that  stir  those  feelings,  even  though  the 
actual  fruition  is  absent. 

The  sensual  pleasures  are  less  suitable,  because  of  their 
being  accompanied  with  too  strong  a  craving  for  the  reality  ; 
which  craving,  if  ungratified,  is  a  cause  of  pain.  The 
imagination  of  a  feast  gives  more  pain  than  pleasure  to  a 
hungry  man. 

The  case  is  very  much  altered  when  the  idea  is  a  prelude 
to  actual  gratification.  This,  however,  is  not  a  true  test  of 
Ideality  in  itself.  Still,  when  the  unknown  and  imagined 
offers  a  prospect  of  better  things  than  we  already  have,  as  is 
done  by  truth  in  the  shape  of  probability,  our  hopes  are 
kindled,  and  the  charm  of  the  picture  is  then  intense.  This 
gives  a  fascination  to  Bacon's  ideals  of  the  progress  of 
knowledge.  All  such  gratification  a]3peals  to  our  egotism^  in 
the  shape  of  collective  self-interests. 

II.  The  creation  must  be  successful  in  stirring  the 
emotions  appealed  to.  It  must  be  thoroughly  well  managed 
for  doing  the  right  thing  and  no  more.  This  includes  all  the 
details  of  poetic  sufficiency;  the  proper  selection  and  adapta- 
tion of  materials,  according  to  the  laws  of  poetic  emotion. 
Such  grand  successes  were  the  Homeric  creations,  which 
stirred  the  Greek  mind  for  a  thousand  years,  and  are  not 
lost  upon  us  moderns.     The  characters  of  Helen,  Andi'o- 


40  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES — IDEALITY. 

mache,  Achilles,  Ulysses,  were  pure  ideals,  but  so  conceived 
and  executed  as  to  be  a  perennial  charm. 

4.  The  limitations  imposed  by  the  consideration  of 
Truth  are  not  strict  or  narrow,  and  are  meant  to  be 
subservient  to  the  general  effect. 

When  a  bright  ideal  is  held  out  to  us,  there  is  a  very- 
important  distinction,  as  regards  its  influence,  between  the 
unrestricted  licence  of  imagination,  and  ideality  regulated  by 
truth  or  probability.  If  the  laws  of  emotion  are  attended 
to,  the  wildest  fancies  may  give  pleasure.  But,  when  the 
picture  is  both  well  imagined  and  true  to  fact,  we  obtain  a 
satisfaction  of  another  kind.  We  can  apply  the  example  as 
a  lesson,  warning  or  encouragement  for  ourselves ;  we  can 
base  hopes  upon  the  prospect ;  and  thus  derive  some  of  the 
relief  and  refreshment  accruing  from  an  alleviation  of  the 
bui'dens  of  life.  The  happy  combination  of  Poetry  with 
History,  or  with  Science,  when  possible,  may  be  a  loss  in 
imaginative  sweep,  but  a  gain  in  solidity  of  footing. 

The  usual  ending  of  a  Eomantic  plot  in  the  union  of  the 
lovers  is  a  tolerated  ideal,  because  it  gratifies  a  strong 
emotion,  and  because  the  happiness  of  wedded  love  is  a 
splendid  possibility,  occasionally  realized.  There  is  a  basis 
of  nature  for  the  delightful  expectation. 

Compare,  on  the  other  hand,  Marlowe's  poem,  *  The 
Passionate  Shepherd  to  his  Love,'  which  in  its  ideality 
passes  all  reasonable  bounds ;  hence  the  scathing  lines  of 
Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  by  way  of  exposing  the  hollowness. 
The  beauty,  great  as  it  is,  hardly  redeems  the  want  of  truth. 

Coleridge's  poem,  '  When  I  was  young,'  can  barely  atone 
by  its  emotion  for  its  want  of  truth.  The  happiness  of 
early  years  is  idealized  to  excess  ;  and  the  feeling  of  the 
piece  is  a  mournful,  depressing  melancholy.  Nothing  but 
the  poetic  treatment  remains  to  inspire  us. 

It  is  a  rule  of  criticism,  on  this  subject,  that,  in  idealizing 
pictures  from  actual  things,  the  departure  from  nature  should  not 
extend  to  incompatibility,  or  contradiction  of  the  laws  of  things. 
It  would  be  censurable  to  describe  a  moonlight  night  as  following 
a  solar  eclipse ;  to  introduce  a  man  150  years  old ;  or  to  assign 
to  the  same  person  the  highest  rank  as  a  poet,  and  as  a  man  of 
science.  But  rare  and  fortunate  conjunctions  may  be  made  use  of, 
and  even  such  conjunctions  as  have  never  been  actually  kno\\Ti  to 
occur,  provided  they  are  such  as  might  occur.  Poetical  justice  is 
sometimes  realized  in  fact,  and  tlie  only  tiling  against  nature  would  be 


LIMITATIONS    TO    THE    IDEAL.  41 

to  set  it  up  as  the  rule.  It  was  remarked  by  Hobbes :  '  For  as 
truth  is  the  bound  of  the  historian,  so  the  resemblance  of  truth  is 
the  utmost  limit  of  poetical  liberty '.  '  Beyond  the  actual  works 
of  nature  a  poet  may  go;  beyond  the  possibilities  of  nature  never.' 
Scott  has  been  blamed  by  Senior  for  introducing  lucky  '  coinci- 
dences '  beyond  all  the  bounds  of  probability,  and  of  admissible 
exaggeration. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  we  give  ourselves  up  to  the  enjojTnent  of 
what  is  entirely  out  of  relation  to  the  facts  of  experience,  our  first 
demand  is  self-consistency.  We  have  entered  a  new  world,  but  we 
require  that  that  world  should  bo  a  conceivable,  if  not  a  possible,  one. 
In  this  element  of  self-consistency,  '  Gulliver '  is  conspicuous  ;  all  the 
life  and  institutions  of  Lilliput,  Brobdignag,  &c.,  being  ingeniously 
fitted  to  the  fvmdamental  idea.  In  Washmgton  Irving's  '  Rip  Van 
Wmkle,'  the  conception  of  a  man  coming  back  to  life  after  many 
years  of  sleep,  which  seemed  but  a  day  to  himself,  with  all  the 
misunderstandings  resulting,  is  consistently  worked  out.  Keats's 
'Endymion'  is  deficient  in  consistent  adherence  to  a  definite  con- 
ception of  his  imaginary  world. 

But,  further,  there  must  be  overpowering  interest  in  the  representa- 
tions ;  that  is  to  say,  they  must  satisfy  the  laws  that  regulate  the  rise 
of  emotion,  its  maintenance,  its  remission  and  its  subsidence.  Mere 
intellectual  consistency  is  not  enough.  The  '  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  '  and  the  '  Faerie  Queene  '  sustaiu  tliis  interest  by  their  poetic 
beauty. 

5.  The  Ideal  is  powerfully  helped  hy  distance,  ob- 
scurity and  mystery.  Everything  then  favours  and 
nothing  checks  the  outgoings  of  the  imagination. 

The  slightest  touch  of  remoteness  in  place  or  in  time  is 
apt  to  have  thrilling  influence.  A  good  example  is  afforded 
in.  Wordsworth's  lines  : — 

Will  no  one  tell  me  what  she  sings  ? 

Perhaps  the  plaintive  numbers  flow 
For  old,  unhappy,  far-off  tilings, 

And  battles  long  ago. 

The  famous  '  Ode  on  Immortality  *  is,  from  its  subject, 
adapted  to  the  suggestiveness  and  charm  of  Eemoteness  ; 
and  the  poet  works  up  the  effect  accordingly. 

It  is  in  the  far  Past,  that  poets  have  located  the  Golden 
Age  :  to  be  reproduced  somehow  in  a  distant  or  millennial 
future. 

The  mixture  of  the  supeimatural  with  the  natural,  as  in 
nearly  all  ancient  poetry,  and  in  'Paradise  Lost,'  destroys 
the  sense  of  reality,  except  in  so  far  as  the  poet  makes  his 
personages  work  according  to  human  analogies,  and  provides 


42  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES — IDEALITY. 

expression  for  human  situations.  The  Homeric  Greeks 
treated  the  Deities  as  actual  beings,  and  the  Iliad  as  a 
representation  of  actual  transactions,  slightly  coloured. 
With  us,  to  introduce  a  supernatural  agent,  like  Hamlet's 
ghost,  is  almost  to  take  away  our  sense  of  actual  life.  If 
we  see  a  mm'derer  found  out  by  everyday  means,  we  are 
warned  of  the  risks  attending  the  crime  ;  but  if  a  ghost  from 
the  other  world  is  necessary,  we  either  treat  the  story  as  a 
mere  play  of  imagination,  or  di'aw  the  lesson  that  murder 
may  pass  undetected. 

6.  By  a  nearly  total  abnegation  of  the  Ideal,  we  may 
still  achieve  what  is  termed  liealistic  Art.  This  de- 
pends lor  its  effects  on  successful  Imitation. 

Realism,  in  its  inartistic  sense,  is  truth  to  fact,  irrespec- 
tive of  agreeable  or  disagreeable  consequences.  In  this 
sense,  to  call  a  work  too  '  realistic  '  is  to  imply  that  the 
harsh  or  repulsive  features  of  a  coarse  original  have  not 
been  withdrawm,  covered  over,  or  softened  by  appropriate 
handhng.  The  murder  of  Desdemona  on  the  stage,  with 
scarcely  any  concealment,  is  usually  considered  a  piece  oi 
admissible  realism. 

There  is  another  kind  of  realism,  truly  artistic  in  its 
character,  where  literality  is  sought  in  order  to  display  the 
power  of  imitation.  Poetry  is  one  of  the  Imitative  Fine 
Arts.  Its  subjects  are  largely  derived  from  nature  and 
life.  Now,  the  skill  shown  by  an  artist  in  imitating  or 
representing  natural  appearances,  or  incidents,  on  canvas, 
in  marble,  or  in  language,  is  a  new  and  distinct  effect,  which 
excites  pleasure  and  admiration  ;  truth  in  Art  is  then  a  name 
for  minute  observation,  and  for  the  adapting  of  a  foreign 
material  to  reproduce  some  original.  This  makes  the 
Eealistic  school  of  Art :  in  Painting,  Hogarth  and  Wilkie 
are  examples ;  in  Poetry,  Crabbe  is  a  notable  instance ; 
while  in  Prose  Fiction,  the  modern  tendency  is  all  in 
the  realistic  direction. 

The  Eealistic  artist  can  afford  to  be  so  far  truthful  as 
not  to  mislead  us  with  vain  expectations.  Standing  mainly 
upon  the  interest  of  exact  imitation,  or  fidelity  to  his 
original,  he  does  not  need  to  leave  out  the  disagreeables  and 
drawbacks  inseparable  from  things  in  the  actual. 


OEIGINALITY   A   CONDITION   OP   GREATNESS.  43 

NOVELTY. 

1.  Under  the  head  of  Novelty,  we  include,  also. 
Variety,  Remission  and  Proportional  presentation. 
The  highest  form  is  expressed  by  Originality. 

Novelty  is  not  itself  properly  an  emotion,  like  Love 
Eevenge  or  Fear ;  it  is  the  expression  of  the  highest  force 
of  all  stimulants  when  newly  applied. 

In  the  real  world,  few  things  have  the  same  effect  after 
repetition.  So  in  language ;  it  is  usually  on  the  first  en- 
counter of  a  striking  image  or  thought,  that  the  resulting 
charm  is  at  the  highest.  Novelty  is  the  condition  of  many 
of  our  chief  pleasures. 

The  literary  works  that  have  fascinated  mankind,  and 
earned  the  lofty  title  of  genius,  have  abounded  in  strokes  of 
invention  or  originality  :  witness  Homer,  .^schylus,  Plato, 
Lucretius,  Virgil,  Horace,  Dante,  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shake- 
speare, Milton,  Dryden,  De  Foe,  Pope,  Swift,  Addison,  Gray, 
Goethe,  Scott,  Byron,  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  Shelley, 
Keats.  No  combination  of  other  merits  could  place  any  one 
in  the  first  rank  of  poetic  fame. 

2.  Originahty  is  qualified  by  the  demands  of  the 
other  conditions  of  Style. 

A  distinction  has  always  been  made  between  Invention 
and  Refinement  or  Polish ;  some  writers  excelling  in  one, 
and  some  in  the  other.  It  has  been  usual  to  represent  this 
distinction  as  one  of  the  points  in  the  comparison  of  Homer 
and  Virgil.  Among  moderns,  Shakespeare  is  pre-eminent  in 
Originality,  while  occasionally  deficient  in  the  arts  that  con- 
stitute Elegance.  Milton  combines  both  merits.  Shelley's 
great  poetic  force  belongs  rather  to  Invention  than  to 
Polish  ;  Gray  is  remarkable  for  attention  to  the  arts  con- 
stituting Elegance  and  Eefinement.  Seeing  that  we  must 
take  poets  as  they  are,  we  have  to  accept  superiority  in  the 
one  excellence  as  atoning  for  inferiority  in  the  other. 

3.  Next  to  absolute  originality  is  Variety,  or  the 
due  alternation  of  effects. 

Apart  from  entire  novelty,  we  may  derive  enjoyment  by 
remitting,  varying  or  alternating  modes  of  agreeable  stimula- 
tion.    After  a  sufQcient  interval,   one  can  take  delight  in 


44  AIDS   TO   QUALITIES —NO\'ELTY. 

revisiting  impressive  scenes,  and  in  re-perusing  great  literary 
compositions. 

4.  Variety  is  sought  in  all  the  constituents  of  style. 
Tlie  frequent  recurrence  of  the  same  sound  is  unpleasing, 

Hence  it  is  a  law  of  melody  to  alternate  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet.     (See  Melody.) 

So  in  Metres.  While  each  metre  has  a  definite  form, 
not  to  be  departed  from,  there  may  be  a  great  many 
variations  within  that  form.  Shakespeare  excels  every  other 
writer  of  blank  verse  in  ringing  changes  within  the  type. 

5.  The  varying  of  Words  is  a  means  of  rhetorical 
effect. 

The  following  is  an  example  from  Helps  : 
« The  voyage  is  recommenced.  They  sail  by  the  sandy  shore  of 
Araya,  see  the  lofty  cocoa-nut  trees  that  stand  over  Cumana, 
pursue  their  rcaij  along  that  beautiful  coast,  noticing  the  Piritu  palm 
of  Maracapana,  then  traverse  the  difficult  waters  of  the  gloomy 
Golofo  Triste,  pass  the  province  of  Venezuela,  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
white  smnmits  of  the  mountains  above  Santa  Martha,  continue  on, 
their  course  to  Darien,  now  memorable  for  the  failure  of  so  many 
great  enterprises— and  still  no  temple,  no  great  idol,  no  visible 
creed,  no  cultus.' 

The  studied  variation  of  the  terms  is  often  carried  too  far ;  and 
there  is  seen  in  some  eminent  writers  a  readiness  to  mcur  repeti- 
tion to  a  degree  that  would  once  have  been  reckoned  inelegant. 
In  this  sentence  from  Macaulay,  we  find  both  variety  and  repeti- 
tion :  '  As  there  is  no  stronger  sign  of  a  mmd  destitute  of  the 
poetical  faculty  than  the  tendency  to  turn  images  into  abstractions — 
Minerva,  for  example,  into  Wisdom — so  there  is  no  stronger  sign  of 
a  mind  truly  poetical  than  a  dispositioji  to  reverse  the  process,  and  to 
make  individuals  out  of  generalities  '. 

Copiousness  of  language  is  thus  a  condition  of  literary 
genius.  Here  also  Shakespeare  stands  pre-eminent ;  his 
superiority  being  shown  by  a  numerical  computation  of 
his  vocabulary.  It  has  been  remarked  of  Victor  Hugo  that 
the  number  of  words  used  in  his  writings  is  very  great  in 
comparison  with  other  French  writers. 

The  demand  for  copiousness  and  variety  of  diction  is 
opposed  to  the  prescription,  sometimes  given,  to  adhere 
as  closely  as  possible  to  our  purely  Saxon  vocabulary.  Even 
when  Saxon  tei-ms  ai-e  adequate  to  express  our  meaning,  we 
need  not  always  forbid  ourselves  the  use  of  the  classical 
equivalents. 


SCOPE    FOB   VAEIETT.  45 

6.  Variety  is  sought  also  in  the  length  and  structure 
of  Sentences. 

However  well  composed  an  author's  sentences  may  be, 
the  frequent  repetition  of  the  same  form  becomes  wearisome ; 
the  more  so,  if  the  form  is  marked  in  character. 

There  is  a  manifest  overdoing  of  one  type  in  the  curt 
sentences  of  Channing  and  of  Macaulay,  and  in  the  artificial 
balancing  of  Johnson,  and  his  imitator,  Gibbon. 

7.  Alternation  is  requisite  in  Figurative  effects. 

It  is  an  abuse  to  deal  exclusively  in  any  one  figure; 
while  figures  altogether  may  be  out  of  proportion.  In 
the  Philippics  of  Demosthenes,  the  Interrogation  occurs  too 
frequently.  Pope's  Epigrams  are  carried  to  excess.  The 
interest  of  a  composition  may  be  best  sustained  by  employ- 
ing all  the  Figures  in  due  alternation ;  now  a  simile  or  a 
metaphor,  at  another  time  a  metonymy,  then  a  contrast, 
again  an  epigram,  a  hyperbole,  an  interrogation  or  a 
climax. 

8.  Still  wider  in  sweep  is  the  demand  for  varying 
the  Interest  as  a  Whole. 

To  impart  the  highest  enjoyment  by  a  verbal  composi- 
tion, or  any  other  production  of  art,  it  is  necessary  to  work 
upon  the  most  powerful  feelings  of  the  mind.  This  does 
not  exclude  the  appeal  to  the  less  powerful.  On  the  con- 
trary, every  legitimate  source  of  interest  should  be  drawn 
upon,  with  the  understanding  that  the  space  occupied  is 
exactly  in  proportion  to  the  value  as  interest.  The  love 
passion  being,  in  every  respect,  a  first-class  emotion,  it 
occupies  a  leading  place  in  poetic  story.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
intermitted,  and  alternated,  not  merely  with  other  first-class 
emotions,  as  malignity,  but  with  minor  forms  of  interest,  such 
as  the  common  utilities  of  life ;  and  if  these  are  dwelt  upon 
only  in  proportion  to  their  degree  of  charm,  their  intro- 
duction is  so  much  gain. 

It  is  possible  to  protract  the  glow  of  any  single  passion,  by 
varying  its  embodiment,  or  multiplying  its  situations,  acces- 
sories and  surroundings, — as  in  the  invention  of  a  complex 
plot.     This  is  one  of  the  many  forms  of  poetic  invention. 

It  is  only  after  reviewing  the  special  qualities  of  style 
that  the  various  kinds  of  interest  can  be  classified  and  their 


46  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES— ACTION   AND   PLOT. 

respective  values  assigned.  The  best  criterion  of  interest  is 
endurance  without  weariness.  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  is  fond 
of  quoting  a  Greek  proverb — '  Tell  me  a  good  tiling  twice  '. 
As  individuals  differ  greatly  in  their  susceptibility  to  every 
kind  of  emotion,  the  measure  of  the  degree  is  the  time  of 
endurance  with  pleasure. 

An  important  part  of  literary  criticism  consists  in  tracing 
the  adoption  of  figures  and  other  effects  already  used,  but 
watli  improvements  in  the  application  of  them.  This  is  one 
of  the  forms  of  refinement  in  poetical  art.  Gray  is  a  well- 
known  example  :  his  images  are  in  many  instances  borrowed, 
but  with  more  or  less  of  gain  in  the  new  setting. 


ACTION  AND  PLOT. 

1.  In  addition  to  the  recognized  importance  of  nar- 
rated Action  in  evolving  the  emotions,  we  have  to  take 
note  of  the  peculiar  feeling  of  suspense,  commonly  called 
the  interest  of  Plot. 

In  following  most  narratives,  our  attention  is  kept  alive 
by  a  desire  to  learn  the  conclusion  ;  and  the  attitude  of 
suspense  is  accompanied  by  a  peculiar  emotional  condition 
whose  recurrence  is  counted  among  our  undying  pleasures. 
This  interest  was  adopted  into  poetry  from  the  very  earliest 
days ;  and  its  modes  have  been  cultivated  both  in  Poetry 
and  in  Prose  Fiction  to  a  high  degree.  A  plot  is  essential  to 
the  novel  or  romance,  although  writers  differ  greatly  in  the 
complexity  and  ingenuity  of  their  plots.  The  construction 
of  a  plot  is  well  known  to  be  a  perpetual  demand  upon  the 
ingenuity  of  authors  of  fictitious  tales ;  readers  being  already 
familiar  with  so  many  existing  ones. 

2.  The  leading  conditions  of  plot  interest  are: — 

(1)  Uncertainty  in  regard  to  the  issue  of  events  in  pro- 
gress. This  IS  the  most  essential  and  universal  require- 
ment. 

(2)  The  feelings  have  to  be  aroused  in  favour  of  a 
particular  issue.  A  moderate  degree  of  preference  for  one 
conclusion  keeps  up  the  agreeable  suspense ;  while  utter 
indifference  to  the  termination  would  invalidate  the  effect. 

(3)  The  conclusion  is  protracted  so  as  to  give  s^ope  for 
the  attitude  of  suspense. 


REQUISITES   OF   A   GOOD   PLOT.  47 

(4)  It  is  usual  to  supply  fluctuating  iudicatious,  whereby 
the  probable  issue  is  made  to  flit  about  in  different  direc- 
tions. In  this  way  the  pleasurable  excitement  is  prolonged 
and  increased.  Nevertheless,  the  interest  in  the  final  issue 
must  not  be  so  intense  that  unfavourable  omens  will  be  felt 
as  simply  painful.  We  can  afford  a  certain  lowering  of  the 
chances  of  the  side  we  prefer,  with  an  adequate  compensa- 
tion in  the  rebound  of  final  success. 

The  trial  scene  in  the  *  Merchant  of  Venice '  is  a  case  of 
tension  carried  to  the  extreme  point  of  endurance. 

(5)  If  the  end  can  be  made  a  surprise  after  all,  while  still 
agreeing  with  our  wishes  and  feelings,  the  effect  is  all  the 
greater. 

Plot  is  not  merely  an  independent  means  of  interest ;  it 
also  affords  scope  for  the  evolution  of  the  intense  emotions. 
Iij  is,  moreover,  a  collateral  means  of  attaining  unity  in 
narrative  composition. 

When  plot  is  wanting,  the  interest  of  a  poem  must  be 
supported  by  the  power  of  the  isolated  passages.  Speaking 
of  Young's  '  Night  Thoughts,'  Campbell  remarks — '  The  poem 
excites  no  anticipation  as  it  proceeds  '.  '  The  power  of  the 
poet  instead  of  ''heivg  in  the  ■whole"  lies  in  short,  vivid  and 
broken  gleams  of  genius.' 

In  History,  no  less  than  in  Poetry  and  Fiction,  the 
interest  of  a  plot  may  be  developed.  The  historian  is  limited 
to  his  facts,  but  these  may  be  so  arranged  as  either  to 
gain,  or  else  to  lose,  the  interest  of  plot ;  and  the  same 
thing  applies  to  the  narration  of  the  simplest  story. 

EEFINEMENT. 

1.  By  the  aid  of  poetic  handling,  the  ^'ossness  of 
the  strong  animal  passions  can  be  transformed  and 
converted  into  Eefined  Pleasuee. 

Such  feelings  as  the  sensuality  of  love  and  eating,  or 
the  coarser  forms  of  malevolence,  are  not  accepted  in  polite 
literature.  It  is  possible,  nevertheless,  to  make  them  yield 
products  not  unsuitable  to  the  purest  poetry. 

The  gross  pleasures,  in  their  naked  presentation,  are  not 
merely  objectionable  on  moral  grounds  :  they  have  the 
further  defect  of  being  violent  and  therefore  transient.  To 
moderate  and  prolong  their  agreeable  tremor,  is  one  of  the 


48  AIDS    TO   QUALITIES — BEFINEMENT. 

achievements  of  Art  in  general,  and  of  Poetry  in  particular. 
It  is  this  operation  that  gives  another  meaning  to  the  mode 
of  defining  poetry  by  help  of  the  term  *  spiritualizing  '. 

The  principal  examples  are  the  following:  Eating  and 
Drinking;  Sexual  Love;  Malevolence;  Tender  Feeling; 
together  with  Utilities  of  the  grosser  kind,  as  the  appliances 
for  removing  filth,  and  for  the  treatment  of  diseases. 

The  refining  process  also  finds  scope  in  the  emotion  of 
Fear;  mitigating  the  painful  effects,  and  distilling  out  of 
them  small  portions  of  pleasure. 

2.  The  methods  that  have  abeady  come  mider 
review,  for  this  object,  are  chiefly  these  : 

(1)  The  Euphemism  (Part  First,  p.  183).  The  primary 
intention  of  this  figure  is  to  keep  out  of  view  a  repulsive  or 
painful  subject  that  must  nevertheless  be  referred  to.  The 
method  employed— namely,  to  point  to  something  different, 
w^hich,  however,  in  the  circumstances,  lets  the  true  meaning 
be  known — apphes  to  the  palliation  of  coarse  effects  gener- 
ally. 

(2)  Innuendo  or  Suggestion  (p.  212).  This  states  more 
precisely  the  operation  implied  in  the  euphemism.  When 
the  wholesale  slaughter  of  liuman  beings  would  excite 
revulsion  and  disgust,  it  is  left  to  distant  suggestion ;  thus, 
a  sanguinary  battle  is  described  as  being  attended  with 
'  considerable  loss  '.  An  agonizing  struggle  is  simply  '  pain- 
ful'. Swift's  cannibal  proposals  regarding  Irish  children 
are  too  horrible  either  for  a  jest  or  for  irony  ;  but  he  throws 
a  veil  over  them,  by  using  the  language  of  the  shambles,  and 
making  us  think  rather  of  calves  and  lambs. 

(3)  The  Ideal.  It  is  the  nature  of  Ideahty  in  Poetry  to 
put  everything  in  the  most  favourable  aspect  to  suit  our 
feeling.  The  grossness  of  eating  is  done  away  with  in  the 
feasts  of  the  pagan  gods,  and  in  the  nutriment  of  the  angels 
in  Milton. 

(4)  Harmony  (see  p.  34). 

(5)  Plot.  The  operation  of  plot  has  been  already  ex- 
plained ;  as  also  its  magical  power  of  protracting  our  enjoy- 
ment in  connexion  with  the  stronger  passions  (p.  46). 
The  interest  of  a  romance  is  spread  over  numerous  details, 
before  reaching  the  denouement. 

3.  The  following  are  additional  arts  of  Kefinement : 


AETS    OF   EEFINEMENT.  49 

(1)  The  various  devices  of  Language  contribute  largely 
to  the  moderating  and  protracting  of  our  strong  passions. 
Metre  is  known  to  exercise  a  control  over  the  violence  of  the 
feelings  ;  so  the  polish,  elegance,  splendour  and  elevation 
of  the  language  generally,  impart  an  agreeable  diversion  of 
mind,  which  calms  the  fury  of  the  excitement.  The 
ceremonial  of  worship  is  calculated  to  convert  an  outburst  of 
religious  emotion  into  a  gentle  a*nd  enduring  flame.  Polished 
circumlocution  is  one  of  the  habitual  means  of  cooling  the 
heat  engendered  by  the  war  of  words  in  debate.  To  call  atten- 
tion to  beauties  of  pure  form,  is  to  draw  off  the  mind  from 
the  grosser  aspects  of  things ;  as  in  the  Greek  sculpture. 

(2)  Reviewing  the  chief  methods  for  attaining  the  desired 
end,  we  find  them  summed  up  under  Mixture,  with  which 
is  included  Diversion  and  Dilution.* 

For  example,  eating  and  drinking,  though  highly 
important  to  us  in  the  reality,  and  interesting  even  to  think 
of,  are  too  purely  sensual  to  be  treated  in  art,  unless  by 
being  imbedded  in  surroundings  that  divide  our  regards. 
Homer  has  abundance  of  feasting,  but  it  is  either  in 
connexion  with  sacrifices  to  the  gods,  or  mixed  up  with 
hospitality,  which  was  equally  sacred  in  his  eyes. 

So  the  Trojan  War  involves  untold  miseries;  but  Achilles, 
the  author  of  the  misery,  is  shown  to  have  an  amiable  side. 
This  does  not  remove  the  painful  elements,  any  more  than 
the  stimulus  of  tea  is  abolished  by  the  softening  addition  of 
sugar  and  milk.  But  the  consequence  is  to  reconcile  us  to 
an  amount  of  malignant  pleasure  that,  in  its  unmixed  form, 
would  grate  on  other  sensibilities  of  the  mind. 

4.  Fear  unalloyed  is  a  painful  passion,  and  ministers 
to  pleasure  only  by  reaction. 

For  abating  the  pain  of  the  state  itself,  and  for  enhanc- 
ing the  pleasurable  rebound,  the  artist  has  recourse  to 
fictitious  terrors,  as  in  Tragedy.  The  foregoing  arts  of 
mixture,  dilution  and  diversion  are  available  to  qualify  the 
painful  side,  while  allowing  the  pleasure  to  spring  from  the 
remission  or  relief. 

*  There  is  an  illustrative  parallel  to  this  in  the  practice  of  using  sugar  and  milk 
with  tea.  Miiny  persDiis  cannot  partake  of  the  stimulation,  if  the  tea  is  given  by 
itself  ;  even  dilution  would  not  overcome  the  repugnance.  The  mixture  has  the 
hajipy  effect  of  leaving  the  stimulus  in  full  force,  while  yet  so  diverting  and 
otherwise  engaging  the  organ  of  taste,  that  the  harshness  proper  to  the  tea  by 
itself  is  no  longer  discerned. 


50  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES —CHAEACTEES. 

CHAEACTEKS. 

1.  Chaeacter  is  the  continuous  and  consistent  em- 
bodiment and  manifestation  of  personal  feelings  and 
doings. 

While  every  action  of  a  person  operates  on  the  spectator 
according  to  its  own  nature,  and  is  so  judged,  there  is  a  cer- 
tain harmony  in  the  conduct  of  individuals,  which  is  desig- 
nated their  Character. 

The  interest  attaching  to  isolated  displays  is  multiplied 
by  repetition,  and  makes  the  collective  interest  of  a  per- 
sonality. Our  admiration  of  a  single  act  of  nohleness  is 
transformed  into  a  new  product,  admiration  of  the  nobleness 
of  a  life.  The  principles  of  critical  judgment  are  the  same 
for  both  cases. 

2.  The  treatment  of  Character  in  Art  involves 
regard  to  consistency  in  its  development. 

When  a  character  is  introduced  in  narrative,  we  expect 
it  to  agree  with  itself,  or  to  be  in  accordance  with  the  type 
intended  by  the  author. 

3.  The  choice  of  Characters  is  not  limited  to  intrinsic 
attractions. 

Among  characters  intrinsically  attractive,  we  place,  first, 
those  that  rise  above  the  ordinary  in  any  form  of  excellence 
—physical,  moral  or  intellectual.  Among  the  least  tolerable 
are  the  purely  common-place. 

The  physically  defective,  the  morally  bad,  the  intel- 
lectually stupid,— would  all  seem  in  poetry,  as  in  real  life, 
naturally  devoid  of  interest,  not  to  say  repellent.  Yet,  by 
particular  kinds  of  management,  even  these  can  be  made  to 
enter  into  art-compositions. 

Among  the  most  mournful  incidents  of  our  precarious 
existence,  is  the  loss  of  reason.  Looked  at  in  itself,  the 
spectacle  of  insanity  ought  to  give  us  only  unmingled  pain : 
our  pity  yields  no  adequate  compensation  for  the  shock  to 
our  feelings.  Yet,  the  insane  have  been  frequently  employed 
for  poetic  purposes.  In  the  ancient  world,  a  certain  mysteri- 
ous reverence  was  maintained  towards  them  :  they  were 
supposed  to  be  inspired  by  some  good  or  bad  demon.  Even 
when  viewed  more  literally,  they  can  be  made  use  of  as  an 
illustration  of  the  tragic  consequences  of  crime  and  calamity. 
Their  incoherent  utterances  are  shaped  so  as  to  have  some 


INTEEESTING   AND   UNINTERESTING   CHAEACTEES.  51 

bearing  on  the  progress  of  a  story.  We  need  refer  only  to 
Shakespeare's  Hamlet  and  Lear. 

Not  far  removed  in  point  of  misfortune  is  idiotcy ;  yet 
this  is  also  tm-ned  to  account.  If  the  subject  is  amiable, 
our  pity  warms  into  affection  ;  if  the  opposite,  the  idiot 
may  still  be  made  use  of,  as  an  instrument  of  punishment 
and  annoyance  to  those  that  deserve  such  treatment.  The 
half-witted  fool  or  jester,  with  his  ingenious,  irresponsible 
sallies,  was  once  a  favourite  in  courts.  Nevertheless,  an 
idiot  as  such  is  not  a  subject  of  interest  ;  and  Coleridge 
charges  Wordsworth's  treatment  of  his  '  Idiot  Boy '  with 
serious  defects. 

Poverty  and  squalor  are  of  themselves  repellent ;  and 
are  admissible  only  by  the  help  of  special  management. 
When  the  poor  exemplify  the  amiable  and  self-denying 
virtues,  they  command  respect.  Their  condition  can  also 
be  redeemed  by  the  display  of  contented  mirth  and  jollity, 
as  by  Burns  in  '  The  Jolly  Beggars  ' ;  or  by  heroic  defiance — 
'  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that '.  A  king  reduced  to  poverty,  like 
ffidipus,  is  a  tragic  hero.  Abundant  effects  of  the  humorous 
have  often  been  derived  from  the  class. 

Silliness  would  seem  the  most  intractable  of  all  qualities. 
Yet,  silly  persons  are  often  rendered  interesting,  their  silli- 
ness being  skilfully  guided  for  effect ;  as  in  Shakespeare's 
Justice  Shallow,  Slender,  and  his  host  of  clowns.  Marlowe's 
Mycetes,  in  the  '  Tambulaine,'  is  a  purely  silly  character, 
and  being  unredeemed  by  treatment,  is  only  irritating. 

Badness  or  criminality  can  be  employed  in  order  to  set 
off  the  good,  and  to  give  scope  for  signal  retribution.  Tra- 
gedy requires  distinguished  crimes  as  a  part  of  its  essence. 
Even  such  a  crabbed  personage  as  Thersites,  in  the  Iliad, 
becomes  interestii^g  by  the  condign  and  smnmary  punish- 
ment administered  by  Ulysses  :  but  for  which  the  character 
would  have  been  inadmissible. 

While  the  range  of  interesting  characters  is  necessarily 
great,  when  they  are  rightly  handled,  it  does  not  follow,  as 
is  sometimes  said,  that  all  characters  are  alike  interesting 
if  fully  revealed. 

The  multiplication  and  harmonious  unfolding  of  character 
types  is  one  of  the  great  achievements  of  literature.  To  the 
characters  actually  presented  in  History,  has  been  added 
an  equal  number,  of  not  inferior  interest,  in  Poetry  and 
Fiction. 


62  AIDS   TO    QUALITIES — SUBJECTS. 

SUBJECTS. 

The  emotional  effects  of  Art  compositions  are  due  in 
part  to  the  Subjects  chosen. 

The  Subjects  of  the  poetic  art  are  partly  Humanity  and 
partly  what  lies  beyond  it — Animal  and  Vegetable  life,  and 
the  Inanimate  world  at  large.  In  both  spheres,  there  are 
numerous  objects  calculated  to  inspire  agreeable  emotion, 
however  miadorned  may  be  their  language  dress.  The  poet 
naturally  prefers  to  deal  with  this  class  of  things. 

Nevertheless,  circumstances  may  lead  to  the  adoption 
of  less  suitable  subjects :  either  such  as  contribute  nothing 
to  the  pleasure,  or  such  as  have  the  opposite  effect.  It 
happens  with  themes  once  attractive,  that  their  day  of 
interest  has  passed.  Neither  the  Iliad  nor  Punch'se  Lost 
now  possesses  the  charm  that  they  originally  had ;  and  to 
future  ages  their  story  may  be  still  more  repugnant. 

Hence,  it  becomes  a  part  of  the  criticism  of  a  work 
of  art,  to  regard  first  the  subject  in  its  own  character, 
before  it  has  been  touched  by  the  poet's  hand.  This 
enables  us  to  view  in  separation  the  combined  genius  and 
devices  of  the  treatment,  which  is  alone  the  measure  of 
poetic  power. 

Many  discussions  have  arisen  as  to  the  fitness  of  certain 
subjects  for  the  Grand  Epic,  commonly  reputed  the  highest 
of  all  the  kinds  of  poetry.  IMilton  is  understood  to  have 
hesitated  in  his  choice  before  fixing  on  the  'Fall  of  Man*. 
One  of  his  rejections — '  The  Eomance  of  Arthur  and  the 
Eound  Table ' — has  been  adopted  by  Tennyson,  although 
in  a  form  different  from  the  Grand  Epic. 

Some  of  Wordsworth's  subjects  have  been  felt  as  a  drag, 
rather  than  an  aid,  to  his  poetical  success.     (See  p.  51.) 

The  Henriade  of  Voltaire  is  condemned  by  Mr.  Morley, 
on  the  ground  of  inadequacy  of  the  subject  for  Epic  treat- 
ment. In  comparison  with  the  Iliad  or  Paradii<e  Lost,  it  is 
obviously  deficient  in  grandeur  of  events — in  heroic  per- 
sonages, great  battles,  crimes,  disasters  and  revolutionary 
changes. 

The  remarks  already  made  on  Character  bear  principally 
■upon  fitness  or  unfitness  for  poetic  treatnient.  The  con- 
sideration of  Subject  ranges  still  wider,  and  includes  scenery, 
incident  and  juxtaposition  of  parts  in  completed  works. 


PEOGBESS   OF   INTEREST   IN   NATURE.  63 

In  the  subsequent  consideration  of  the  special  QuaHties 
of  Style,  the  laws  of  emotional  effect  will  apply  alike  to  the 
subjects  chosen,  and  to  the  manner  of  handling  them.  The 
qualifications  and  disqualifications  of  particular  subjects 
will  be  apparent,  when  their  emotional  bearing  is  under- 
stood. There  will  also  be  seen  the  poet's  art  in  over- 
coming defects,  by  suitable  selection  and  adaptation  to  the 
end  in  view. 

Natuee  as  a  Subject. 

Humanity  is  assumed  throughout  as  the  main  theme  of 
poetical  art.  Yet  in  the  world  are  to  be  found  many  other 
topics, — partly  interesting  in  themselves,  and  partly  re- 
flecting the  interest  proper  to  human  beings. 

The  topic  of  Nature  interest  has  been  lately  reviewed  by 
Professor  Veitch,  with  much  illustrative  fulness,  although  with 
special  reference  to  Scottish  Poetry.  As  more  or  less  pervading 
the  works  of  great  poets,  it  has  to  be  reckoned  with  in  the  Khe- 
torical  art,  among  the  sources  of  artistic  emotion.  It  will  be 
adverted  to  in  connexion  with  the  leading  qualities  of  style  ;  never- 
theless, as  a  preparation  in  advance,  we  may  make  the  following 
general  remarks. 

(1)  The  earliest  form  of  the  poetic  interest  in  nature  is  the 
alliance  with  the  utiUties  of  life,  as  m  the  celebration  of  the  objects 
of  agricultural  interest, — the  rich  pastures,  fertile  fields  and  run- 
ning streams,  the  trees  that  give  fruit  and  shade,  the  animals 
that  are  in  tlie  service  of  man.  This  is  the  stage  of  Theocritus 
and  Virgil.  It  implies,  further,  a  revulsion  from  the  intractable 
and  desert  tracts,  with  then-  ruthless  tenantry  of  savage  animals. 
The  grand  forces  of  nature  on  their  genial  side — the  smishine 
and  the  fertilizing  rain — would  contribute  to  the  agreeable  picture. 

(2)  The  next  stage  is  the  purely  disinterested  pleasure  in 
natm-e,  not  depending  on  the  yield  of  material  products,  and  not 
confined  to  the  fruitful  land  and  the  helping  animals.  This  is  a  far 
higher  stretch  of  imaginative  interest,  and  supposes  a  great 
advance  in  the  control  of  natural  powers.  As  a  problem  of  the 
workmgs  of  the  human  mind,  it  is  extremely  subtle  and  compli- 
cated ;  and  the  best  clue  to  its  workings  is  the  expression  that  it 
has  prompted  in  the  most  suscej^tible  minds.  In  the  first  place, 
the  aspects  of  Natiire  furnish  a  considerable  stock  of  gratification 
for  the  higher  senses — sight  and  hearing.  The  variegated  colouring 
of  earth  and  sky,  of  plant  and  animal  life  ;  the  somids  of  the 
breeze,  the  waters  and  the  bii'ds, — give  pleasiu'e  as  mere  sense 
stimulation. 

Much  more  influential,  however,  is  the  suggestion  of  human 
aspects  by  the  personifying  tendency  already  discussed  (p.  21).     It 


54  AIDS   TO   QUALITIES — SUBJECTS. 

is  not  simply  the  lilceness  to  humanity  traceable  in  material 
objects  viewed  in  repose,  it  is  the  far  wider  range  of  likeness  in 
the  motions  and  changes  that  these  imdergo.  The  movements  of 
the  sun  in  his  daily  and  yearly  rounds  can  be  iised  to  body  forth 
human  life,  notwithstanding  the  disparity  of  the  things  compared. 
So  with  the  flow  of  rivers,  and  all  the  multiplied  displays  of 
atmospheric  cflTect. 

The  subtle  references  to  human  feelings  have  even  a  still 
lai'ger  scope.  INIuch  stress  is  laid  by  Professor  Veitch  on  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  free,  as  giving  the  charm  to  wild  nature.  There- 
action  from  the  mitltiplied  restraints  of  artificial  life  yields  a 
joyous  rebound  of  deliverance,  and  is  regarded  as  such  in  the 
forms  of  poetical  expression. 

Ruskin  tells  us  that  his  love  of  Nature,  ardent  as  it  is,  depends 
entirely  on  the  tvilduess  of  the  scenery — its  remoteness  from  hvmiau 
influences  and  associations. 

Yet  fm-ther.  Not  content  with  tracing  resemblances  to 
humanity  as  such,  the  poet  has  often  striven  to  involve  the  Deity 
with  Nature  suggestion.  The  oldest  and  most  prevalent  form  of 
this  reference  is  to  rise  from  the  world  to  its  Creator,  as  m  Addi- 
son's hymn.  A  more  subtle  kind  of  reference  consists  in  regai-ding 
the  Deity  as  'immanent'  or  indwellmg,  and  nature  as  His  garment 
or  expression  :  as  may  be  seen  in  Goethe,  and  still  more  in  Words- 
worth. To  this  effect,  the  name  '  Symbolism '  is  applied.  It 
completes  the  development  of  nature  interest  through  the  sugges- 
tion of  personality. 

We  have  in  Pope  : — 

All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole, 
Whose  body  Nature  is,  and  God  the  soul. 
W^ordsworth  thus  introduces  the  sea  : — 

Listen  !  the  mighty  Being  is  awake, 
And  doth  with  His  eternal  motion  make 
A  soimd  like  thunder  everlastingly. 

(3)  It  is  by  minds  unusually  sensitive  and  able  to  express  their 
feelings  in  the  poetic  garb,  that  the  mass  of  mankind  are  slowly 
educated  to  the  enjoyment  of  Nature :  a  circumstance  that 
indicates  the  risks  encountered  by  the  nature  poet.  To  the 
average  reader  the  language  used  nuist  often  seem  extravagant  or 
hyperbolical :  and  the  resources  of  genius  and  art  are  needed  by 
way  of  redemption. 

(4)  The  treatment  of  Nature  takes  two  distinct  forms.  The 
one  consists  in  making  it  a  main  theme,  as  in  Thomson's  '  Seasons,' 
in  the  poems  devoted  to  particular  flowers  or  animals,  and  in 
depicting  scenes  of  grandeur  or  beauty,  as  Mont  Blanc.  The  other 
form  is  the  employment  of  interesting  natural  objects  as  orna- 
ment, or  harmonious  accompaniments  and  suiToundmgs  of  human 
situations.  The  last  is  the  more  usiial,  but  there  is  no  difference 
between  them  in  the  conditions  for  securing  the  desired  effect. 


STEENGTH. 

Strength,  or  the  Suhhme,  as  a  quahty  of  style, 
consists  in  producing  by  language  the  grateful  emotions 
attending  the  manifestation  of  superior  might. 

The  term  Sublimity,  or  the  Sublime,  is  commonly  applied 
to  the  highest  kinds  of  Strength.  There  are  other  names 
indicative  of  the  quality,  in  various  aspects  and  degrees — 
Loftiness,  Grandeur,  Magnificence ;  Brilliancy,  Animation, 
Liveliness,  Vivacity  ;  Force,  Energy,  Vigour,  Verve.  The 
last  of  these  groups  might  be  regarded  either  as  the  lower 
forms  of  Strength,  or  as  the  emotional  aspects  of  the  quality 
designated    '  Impressiveness ' . 

In  the  celebrated  treatise  of  Longinus  On  the  Snhh'vic,  the  term 
(u\|/-3s)  is  used  iii  a  wide  sense,  being  equivalent  to  emotional  elevation 
of  style  generally. 

Sublimity  is  often  contrasted  vyith  Beauty,  both  being  excellency  of 
style.  The  more  significant  contrast  is  between  Strength  or  the  Su- 
blime and  Feelmg  or  Pathos.  The  sphere  most  proxjerly  assigned  to 
Beauty  will  be  considered  at  a  later  stage. 

One  important  accompaniment  of  Sublimity  is  the  infinite  or 
illimitable  character  of  its  objects.  According  to  Professor  Veitch,  this 
is  inseparable  from  the  quality.  Yet  Strength,  as  active  energy,  has 
many  degrees  before  we  reach  the  forms  that  transcend  our  faculties  of 
comprehension ;  and  poetry  recognizes  all  the  modes.  Nevertheless, 
there  is  a  distinctive  impression  arising  from  objects  in  their  nature 
unbomided  ;  and  a  certain  art  is  required  to  guide  this  into  pleasurable 
channels. 

Sublimity  has  always  been  regarded  as  pre-eminently 
a  product  of  Art  generally,  and  not  of  Poetry  alone.  A 
study  of  the  best  examples  will  show  that  it  is  not  a  simple 
result,  but  an  aggregate  of  many  effects.  The  one  thing 
constantly  present  is  the  embodiment  of  vast  or  superior 
power.  This,  however,  seldom  stands  alone.  The  various 
consequences  of  the  power  are  often  what  makes  the  chief 
impression. 

These  consequences,  when  pleasurable,  consist  in  grati- 
fying some  of  our  chief  emotions,  such  as  Love,  Malevolence 


56  STRENGTH — SUBJECTS. 

and  the  varioiis  forms  of  Self-interest.  In  comparison  with 
these,  the  feehng  of  manifested  strength  in  itself  would  seem 
a  slender  gratification.  Nay,  more :  we  can  but  seldom 
obtain  the  picture  of  strength  in  this  pure  and  abstract 
form ;  even  when  w^e  think  we  obtain  it,  we  are  not  sure  but 
that  a  tacit  reference  to  the  possible  emotional  outgoing 
enters  into  the  pleasure  it  gives. 

The  order  of  treatment  best  adapted  to  guide  us  in  the 
exhaustive  criticism  of  the  literature  of  Strength,  is  assumed 
to  be  as  follows  : — 

1.  The  Subjects  of  Strength,  taken  in  classes. 

2.  The  Constituents  of  Strength,  as  shown  by  the  final 
analysis  of  the  quality.  This  will  determine  its  most 
characteristic  Forms  and  Conditions,  and  will  be  a  suitable 
basis  for  the  exemplification  in  detail. 

3.  The  Vocabulary  of  Strength :  the  groundwork  of  its 
successful  embodiment  in  language. 

4.  Other  Aids  and  Conditions,  including  those  that  all 
the  qualities  have  in  common,  and  those  referring  to 
Strength  in  particular. 

5.  Passages  examined. 

SUBJECTS  OF  STEENGTH. 

1.  In  illustrating  the  various  ways  of  embodying 
Strength  as  a  literary  quality,  we  consider,  first,  the 
Subjects  of  it.  These  are  either  Personal  or  Im- 
personal. 

The  Subjects  of  Strength  are  powerful  and  commanding 
agencies  of  every  kind,  whether  physical  or  mental. 

PERSONAL  PHYSICAL  STRENGTH. 

2.  Our  interest  in  Persons  comprises  all  the  appear- 
ances of  superior  might,  in  any  of  its  modes — Physical, 
Moral,  Intellectual. 

In  the  actual  display  of  great  personal  power,  we  are 
moved,  as  mere  spectators,  to  a  pleasing  admiration  ;  while, 
tln-ough  the  medium  of  language,  we  may  derive  a  share  of 
the  same  grateful  excitement. 

Men,  in  all  ages,  have  been  affected  by  the  sight  of  great 
physical  superiority  in  individuals.     When  not  under  fear 


THE    ATHLETIC    FIGUllE.  57 

for  themselves,  they  have  beheld,  with  a  certain  disinterested 
admiration  and  delight,  the  form  and  bearing  of  a  powerful 
frame.  Not  merely  in  war,  but  in  minor  contests  of  personal 
superiority,  as  in  games,  has  been  attested  the  charm  of 
physical  prowess.  With  Homer,  renown  is  attached  to  all 
the  displays  of  physical  greatness,  extending  even  to  the 
avocations  of  peaceful  industry.  His  divine  and  semi-divine 
personages  are  admired  for  purely  muscular  and  mechanical 
energies ;  the  mythical  Hercules  is  expressly  conceived  to 
gratify  the  fond  imaginations  of  early  ages  for  such  superi- 
ority. The  more  powerful  animals  have  contracted  an 
interest  from  the  same  cause  :  as  the  horse  for  swiftness  and 
strength ;  the  elephant  for  enormous  size  and  muscle ;  the 
lion,  the  tiger  and  the  bear  for  concentrated  energy. 

The  athletic  figure,  to  produce  its  full  effect,  must  be 
viewed,  either  in  reality,  or  as  represented  in  sculpture  and 
painting ;  description  is  ineifectual  to  produce  it.  A  heroic 
personage  may  be  pictured  as  taller  by  the  head  than  the 
surrounding  multitude,  as  was  said  of  Saul  among  the 
people.  In  Milton,  we  find  occasionally  depicted  the  com- 
manding bulk  of  the  Satanic  chiefs.  For  example,  of  Satan 
liimself : — 

His  other  parts  besides 
Prone  on  the  flood,  extended  long  and  large, 
Lay  floating  many  a  rood,  in  bulk  as  huge 
As  whom  the  fables  name  of  monstrous  size, 
Titanian  or  Earth-born,  that  warred  on  Jove, 
Briareos  or  Typhon. 

On  the  other  side,  Satan,  alarmcdj 
Collecting  all  his  might,  dilated,  stood, 
Like  Tenerif?  or  Atlas,  unremoved. 
His  stature  reached  the  sky,  and  on  his  crest 
Sat  Horror  plumed. 

The  poet,  however,  has  a  still  more  excellent  resource. 
Language  can  assign  the  results  or  consequences  of  great 
physical  energy :  striking  down  rivals  in  a  contest ;  over- 
coming measured  resistance;  performing  such  laborious 
operations  as  propelling  missiles,  working  at  the  oar,  sus- 
taining heavy  loads,  felhng  an  ox  at  a  blow.  The  twelve 
labours  of  Hercules  are  realizable  by  us  through  description 
alone.  The  formidable  personahty  of  Achilles  is  conveyed 
by  his  being  styled  swift  of  foot,  and  the  utterer  of  a  terrible 
shout ;  he  is  also  the  irresistible  slayer  of  the  most  powerful 
of  his  enemies, 
4 


58  STRENGTH— SUBJECTS. 

While  the  production  of  great  effects  (by  comparison 
with  what  is  ordinary)  is  necessarily  the  surest  token  of 
strength,  the  impression  is  enhanced  by  the  appearances  of 
ease  on  the  part  of  the  agent.  When  a  small  expenditure 
brings  about  a  great  result,  our  sense  of  might  is  at  the 
utmost  pitch  ;  while  the  opposite  case — a  gi^eat  expenditure 
with  small  result^ — is  one  of  the  modes  of  the  ridiculous.  A 
large  ship  carried  along  by  the  invisible  breeze  is  a  sublime 
spectacle.  The  explosion  of  a  mine,  or  the  discharge  of  a 
heavy  gun  by  a  slight  touch,  communicates  the  feeling  of 
power  in  a  high  degree.  The  whole  of  this  class  of  energies 
is  pre-eminently  suited  to  description. 

Milton  abounds  in  strokes  of  physical  energy  on   the 
part  of  his  superhuman   personages.      Whether   these  are 
adequate  to  their  end,  depends  on  their  fulfilling  the  various 
stringent  conditions  of  an  artistic  embodiment  of  strength. 
From  their  foundations,  loosening  to  and  fro. 
They  plucked  the  seated  hills,  with  all  their  load, 
Bocks,  waters,  woods,  and  by  their  shaggy  to^js 
Uplifting,  bore  them  in  their  hands. 

Landor  has,   in  his    '  Count  Julian,'    a  fine   stroke   of 
physical  Energy,  indicated  by  consequences  and  by  felicitous 
comparison ;    the  effect  being  perhaps  all  the  greater  that 
the  act  is  just  within  the  scope  of  human  strength : — 
The  hand  that  hurl'd  thy  chariot  o'er  its  wheels, 
That  held  thy  steeds  erect  and  motionless. 
As  molten  statues  on  some  palace  gate. 
Shakes  as  with  palsied  eye  before  thee  now. 
Chaucer's  Miller  is  a  picture  of  coarse  physical  energy, 
supported  by  poetic  arts. 

The  description  of  Geraint,  in  Tennyson,  may  also  be 
quoted : — 

And  bared  the  knotted  column  of  his  throat, 
The  massive  square  of  his  heroic  breast, 
And  arms  on  which  the  standing  muscle  sloped 
As  slopes  a  wild  brook  o'er  a  little  stone, 
llunning  too  vehemently  to  break  upon  it. 

The  physical  power  in  this  instance  is  portrayed  by  figure 
alone  ;  the  three  circumstances  being  all  significant  of  a 
highly  muscular  frame. 

MORAL   STRENGTH. 
3.  The  term  Moral,  in  contrast  to  Physical  and  to 
Intellectual,  embraces  our  feelings  and  our  voluntary 


VAKIETIES    OP    MOKAL    STEENGTH.  59 

impulses.     From  these,  also,  we  may  derive  the  grateful 
emotion  of  Strength. 

A  much  more  varied  interest  attaches  to  exceptional 
displays  of  moral  force  or  superiority. 

As  with  the  physical,  there  is  an  ordinary  pitch  that 
excites  little  or  no  interest ;  only  the  extraordinary  and 
exalted  modes  possess  the  capability  of  artistic  charm. 

It  is  through  the  expressed  feelings  and  the  voluntary 
conduct  that  a  human  being  is  a  subject  of  approbation  or 
disapprobation,  admiration,  esteem,  affection  or  dislike. 
The  quality  of  Strength  deals  more  exclusively  with  such 
feelings  and  conduct  as  show  active  power  or  moral  energy 
and  grandeur;  the  quality  of  Tenderness  and  Pathos,  on  the 
other  hand,  embraces  the  loveable. 

What  we  may  define  as  Moral  Strength  is  the  influence 
that  lifts  us,  through  our  sympathies,  into  a  higher  moral 
being.     Three  marked  forms  may  be  stated. 

(1)  The  influence  of  cheerfulness  or  buoyancy,  under 
circumstances  more  or  less  depressing.  "When  we  ourselves 
are  depressed,  the  demeanour  of  a  cheerful  person,  if  there  is 
nothing  objectionable  attending  it,  is  a  sustaining  and  elating 
influence. 

(2)  The  moral  strength  of  superiority  to  passing  impulses, 
in  the  pursuit  of  great  objects.  Greatest  of  all  is  the  con- 
tinued endurance  of  toil  and  fatigue,  as  in  the  Homeric 
Ulysses,  and  in  the  much-suffering  heroes  of  all  ages.  The 
persistence  of  an  Alexander,  a  Caesar  or  a  Columbus,  has 
often  worked  on  inferior  minds  as  a  mental  tonic. 

To  be  enslaved  by  appetite  and  passion  and  every 
transient  impulse,  is  a  prevailing  weakness.  The  few  that  are 
entirely  exempted  from  it  are  regarded  with  admiring  sur- 
prise, and  their  delineation  by  the  poetic  pen  is  an  agreeable 
picture  of  moral  strength  ;  inducing  in  us  both  the  wish  to 
imitate  them,  and  the  temporary  consciousness  of  superiority 
to  our  usual  self. 

(3)  Greatest  of  all  is  the  surrender  of  self  to  the  welfare 
of  others.  Self-sacrifice  is  moral  heroism,  and  is  applauded 
in  every  age.  It  is  the  feature  that  gives  nobility  to 
courage  in  war.  It  makes  martyrdom  illustrious.  It  is  the 
recommendation  of  the  austere  sects  in  philosophy  and  in 
religion.  The  preference  of  public  well-being  to  private 
affections  is  the  form  that  belongs  principally  to  strength  ; 


60  STRENGTH— SUBJECTS. 

SO  also  the  superiority  to  the  pomps,  shows  and  vanities 
that  delight  and  engross  the  average  human  being.  Pope's 
'  Man  of  Koss  '  is  a  notable  rendering  o£  this  kind  of  moral 
V7orth. 

Heroic  daring  in  v^^ar  is  the  form  of  moral  strength  that 
first  received  the  attention  of  poets  ;  and  it  is  still  a  princi- 
pal theme. 

One  great  and  notable  form  of  moral  grandeur  is  expressed  by 
the  term  Passion.  The  Greek  tragedians,  according  to  Milton, 
were  noted  for  their  mastery  of  high  passion.  They  set  forth 
the  qualities  both  of  Strength  and  of  Pathos,  in  their  most 
intense  manifestations.  These  passionate  outbursts  have 
always  had  a  great  charm  for  mankind;  but  they  demand 
skilful  and  artistic  management.  A  hiunan  being,  aroused  into 
uniisual  fervoiu-,  sympathetically  arouses  the  beholders ;  and  to 
be  more  than  ordinarily  excited  is  an  occasional,  although 
not  a  necessar}'^,  cause  of  pleasure.  A  coarse,  tumidtiious  ex- 
citement has  very  little  value :  there  must  be  a  well-marked 
passion  ;  the  passion  itself  must  be  of  the  strong  kind,  or  a  foil  to 
some  strong  passion.  When  the  expression  is  by  language,  the 
terms  must  have  the  requisite  appropriateness,  combined  with  in- 
tensity, as  in  the  great  examples  of  tragedy,  ancient  and  modern. 
A  clear,  full,  undistracted  and  adequate  rendering  of  the  outward 
display  most  characteristic  of  each  passion  is  aimed  at  on  the 
stage,  and  applies  alike  to  the  language  employed,  and  to  the 
actor's  embodiment  as  witnessed  by  the  eye. 

INTELLECTUAL  STRENGTH. 

4.  Intellectual  Superiority  assumes  well  -  marked 
forms :  the  Genius  for  Government,  War,  Industiy  ; 
Oratory  or  Persuasion,  Poetry  or  other  Fine  Art  ; 
Science. 

Eulogy  of  intellectual  greatness,  poetically  adorned, 
awakens  in  us  the  sympathetic  emotion  of  Strength.  Great 
discoverers,  as  Aristotle,  Copernicus,  Newton,  Harvey  or 
Watt,  receive  pagans  of  praise,  couched  in  the  highest  strains 
of  poetry.  Still  more  loud  and  prolonged  are  the  eulogies 
of  kings,  warriors  and  statesmen  ;  the  beginnings  of  which 
are  seen  in  Homer.  Most  emphatic,  and  most  felicitous  of 
all,  are  the  praises  of  poets,  by  each  other :  Gray's  '  Pro- 
gress of  Poesy '  is  one  of  a  hundred  examples. 

Pope's  'Temple  of  Fame'  is  perhaps  the  most  elaborate 
and  comprehensive  laudation  of  the  intellectual  genius  of 
former  ages.     It  is  made  up  almost  purely  of  poetic  touches 


CELEBRATION   OP   GENIUS.  61 

—similes  and  picturesque  settings,— and  can  be  judged  by 
the  laws  that  govern  the  propriety  of  these.  His  least 
figurative  description  is  this  : — 

Superior,  and  alone,  Confucius  stood, 

Who  taught  that  useful  science — to  be  good. 

The  only  figure  here  is  a  delicate  innuendo  in  describing  the 
science  of  being  good  as  'useful'.  Otherwise,  the  couplet 
is  a  poet's  selection  of  the  most  popular  and  effective  point 
in  the  system  of  Confucius.  It  is  almost  his  only  instance 
where  the  point  of  eulogy  is  a  literal,  or  matter-of-fact  state- 
ment. The  other  heroes  are  given  in  the  richest  poetic  garb. 
Literary  power,  or  the  art  of  Bxpressing  and  diffusing 
thoughts,  is  celebrated  in  a  variety  of  epigrams.  It  is  said 
— '  syllables  govern  the  world  ' ;  '  the  pen  is  mightier  than 
the  sword';  'a  book  is  a  church'.  These  are  illustrative 
of  the  production  of  great  results  from  apparently  small 
causes. 

INTELLECTUAL  AND  MORAL  STRENGTH  COMBINED. 

5.  Many  forms  of  greatness  combine  Intellectual 
and  Moral  superiority. 

Chatham  described  Clive  as  '  that  heaven-born  general, 
whose  magnanimity,  resolution,  detennination  and  execu- 
tion would  charm  a  king  of  Prussia ;  and  whose  presence 
of  mind  astonished  the  Indies  '. 

The  leader  of  men  needs  self-control  and  a  commanding 
personality,  as  well  as  great  force  of  intellect.  A  Demosthenes, 
who  wielded  at  will  the  fierce  democracy  ;  a  Columbus,  who 
guided  a  recalcitrant  crew  over 'unknown  seas  ;  a  Luther, 
who,  from  an  obscure  origin,  became  a  revolutionary  power 
— demand  both  moral  and  intellectual  gifts,  and  are  eulogized 
accordingly. 

The  charm  of  Ulysses,  in  the  '  Odyssey,'  is  the  combined 
intellectual  power  and  moral  endurance,  so  skilfully  repre- 
sented in  the  fictitious  adventures  assigned  to  him.  As  the 
hero  of  '  many  wiles,'  he  initiated  a  type  whose  interest  will 
never  die.  To  this  is  added  Horace's  condensed  eulogy  of 
his  moral  side  {Ejn'stles,  I.  2). 

Myfldcal  and  Imagined  Heroes. — "With  these,  langnasfe  is 
everything.  Being  so  plastic  in  the  hands  of  a  poet  or  dc- 
scriber,they  are  shaped  according  to  purely  poetic  fancy;  and 
£ue  bound  to  exhibit  well-selected  and  combined  attributes 


62  STRENGTH — SUBJECTS. 

of  grandeur  harmoniously  sustained.  When  they  are  made 
to  depart  from  the  human  type,  their  management  is  ex- 
ceedingly perilous,  and  seldom  entirely  successful ;  as  can 
be  seen  in  Paradise  Lost,  where  marvellous  occasional 
strokes  are  alternated  with  much  that  is  incoherent,  and 
unsuited  to  maintain  the  lofty  interest  of  the  poem.  The 
conduct  of  Homer's  deities  is  often  greatly  out  of  keeping 
with  their  illustrious  position. 

Colledive  Strength. — The  highest  and  most  imposing 
manifestation  of  strength  is  seen  in  the  aggregation  of 
human  beings  in  crowds,  armies  and  nations.  The  wrought- 
up  interest  of  history  is  made  out  of  the  actions  of  collective 
humanity.  Wars,  conquests,  the  restraining  discipline  of 
mankind,  the  advances  in  civilization,  are  effected  by  human 
beings  organized  under  skilled  leaders.  To  express  all  these 
various  forms  of  collective  energy  is  the  business  of  the 
historian,  and  may  be  a  means  of  evoking  the  highest 
sublime.  The  loftiest  epics  involve  at  once  individual 
supremacy  and  collective  might :  the  one  supposing  the 
other. 

The  greatness  of  kings,  generals,  ministers  of  state, 
party  leaders,  rests  on  the  national  strength  at  their 
disposal. 

IMPERSONAL  STRENGTH. 

6.  The  Inanimate  world  supplies  objects  for  the 
emotion  of  the  Sublime. 

Under  Personification,  has  been  noticed  the  ascribing  of 
human  feelings  to  the  world  outside  of  humanity.  By  this 
means,  a  great  extension  is  given  to  the  reflex  interest  in 
Strength  as  a  quality.  A  very  large  department  of  nature  is 
characterized  by  boundless  energy,  and  its  contemplation 
lias  an  elating  influence  on  the  mind,  which  is  described  by 
the  term  Sublimity. 

The  great  powers  of  inanimate  nature— heat,  light, 
winds,  waves,  tides,  rivers,  volcanoes — occupy  a  place  iu 
poetry,  through  their  imposing  might. 

There  is  sublimity  in  the  mountain  mass,  notwithstand- 
ing its  repose.  It  represents  upheaving  energy,  with  cohesive 
force,  and  suggests  power  on  the  vastest  scale.  In  its 
simplicity  of  form  as  well  as  its  familiarity,  it  is  suited 
to  easy  conception. 

The   amplitude   of    space   is   allied   with   the   physical 


STBENGTH   A    COMPLEX   QUALITY.  63 

sublime  ;   and  language  is  frequently  employed  in  helping 
us  to  conceive  its  vast  dimensions. 

The  dimension  of  height  or  loftiness,  and  also  abysmal 
depth,  are  associated  with  circumstances  of  physical  force, 
and  inspire  corresponding  emotions. 

The  great  works  of  human  industry  afford  images  of 
power,  which,  both  in  the  actual  view  and  in  the  language 
rendering,  are  enrolled  among  the  stimulating  causes  of  the 
emotion  of  Strength.  Enormous  steam  engines,  employed 
in  the  industries  of  mankind ;  great  furnaces,  and  gun- 
powder blasting  ;  huge  ships  ;  and  all  the  permanent  pro- 
ducts of  human  energy  on  the  great  scale,  inspire  the  feeling 
of  superior  might. 

Architectural  erections  are  employed  in  the  production 
of  sublimity  (as  well  as  beauty),  and  by  adequate  descrip- 
tion can  lend  the  same  interest  in  poetry.  By  vastness, 
they  affect  us  with  the  emotion  of  power,  or  the  sublime. 

CONSTITUENTS  OF  STEENGTH. 

1.  If  Strength  be  a  complex  quality,  we  should  en- 
deavour to  assign  its  constituents. 

In  a  mixed  or  aggregate  quality,  the  simple  ingredients 
may  be  distributed  very  differently  in  different  examples, 
rendering  all  general  delineation  vague  and  inapplicable. 
For  each  one  of  the  foregoing  classes,  there  will  be  a  wide 
difference  of  treatment  according  to  the  aspect  assumed,  or 
the  manner  and  end  of  the  employment. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  Strength,  by  itself,  pure  and  simple ;  that 
is,  whore  the  consequences  of  its  employment  are  not  thought  of,  or 
not  apparent.  There  are  other  cases  where  the  results  are  what  chiefly 
affect  us.  These  results  are  sometimes  beneficent  and  sometimes 
maleficent — in  either  case,  appealing  to  powerful  emotions ;  and  we 
are  bound  to  follow  out  both  sets  of  consequences. 

The  obvious  arrangement  might,  therefore,  seem  to  be :  1.  Neutral 
Strength  ;  2.  Beneficent  Strength  ;  3.  ]Maleficent  Strength. 

In  point  of  fact,  however,  an  opposite  order  is  more  suited  to  the 
examples,  as  we  find  them.  Pure  strength  is  but  seldom  realized  in 
literature  ;  so  much  more  unction  attaches  to  the  emotions  roused  by 
the  modes  of  employing  it.  Hence,  the  preferable  course  is  to  begin 
by  attending  to  these  emotional  effects ;  after  which  we  can  make 
aJDstraction  of  their  workings,  so  as  to  present  the  Sublime  of  Power  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  a  neutral  form. 

The  remaining  question  is  as  to  the  priority  of  Beneficont  over 
Maleficent  Strength.  In  adopting  these,  as  heads,  we  are  necessarily 
led  to  consider  the  emotional  results  more  than  the  fact  of  strength. 


64:  STRENGTH — CONSTITUENTS. 

Now  Beneficence  is  a  branch  of  the  comprehensive  quality  of  Feeling, 
as  we  propose  to  treat  it,  and,  therefore,  we  need  not  dwell  upon  it 
at  this  stage.  The  case  is  different  with  ]\Ialeficence.  For  reasons 
that  can  be  assigned,  there  will  not  be  a  place  alloted  to  it  apart 
from  the  exposition  of  Strength.  Its  close  connexion  with  the  active 
side  of  our  nature  would  be  enough.  ]\Ioreover,  it  does  not  branch 
out  into  numerous  relationships,  as  is  the  case  \vith  Feeling, 

Inasmuch,    then,    as    the    malevolent    employment    of 
Strength   will  make  the  largest  part  of  the  discussion  of 
the  quality,  the  order  of  treatment  will  be : 
I.  Maleficent  Strength, 
II.  Beneficent  Strength. 
III.  Neutral  Strength, 

MALEFICENT   STEENGTH, 

2.  The  Iiifiiction  of  Suffering  is  to  be  regarded  as 
one  of  our  pleasures,  unless  checked  by  sympathy  with 
the  sufferers. 

There  is  here  an  opposition  between  two  parts  of  our 
nature ;  and  the  devices  of  art  are  directed  to  securing  the 
pleasure  with  the  least  offence  to  the  sympathies. 

The  difficulty  is  met  in  various  ways.  For  one  thing, 
the  moral  nature  of  an  individual  or  a  race  may  be  so  low 
that  sympathy  barely  exists.  This  is  one  of  the  features  of 
savagery.  In  such  a  condition,  there  is  an  almost  un- 
mingled  delight  in  cruelty.  The  malevolent  pleasure  is 
then  at  its  utmost ;  nothing  in  life  is  equal  to  it.  Yet, 
inasmuch  as  cruelty,  unmixed,  is  repugnant  to  all  but  the 
very  coarsest  natures,  there  is  needed,  with  a  view  to 
pleasure,  a  pretext  for  the  infliction  of  suffering  ;  legitimate 
revenge  being  the  most  usual  and  sufficient,  althougli  not  the 
only  one. 

History  has  had  to  record  the  sufferings  of  mankind, 
from  famine,  pestilence,*  storms,  floods,  earthquakes,  con- 
flagrations or  other  natural  agencies.  To  take  delight  in 
such  records  is  next  to  impossible,  and  no  literary  arts  can, 
or  ought,  to  make  them  appear  other  than  deplorable  facts. 
Next  are  devastating  wars,  and  all  the  horrors  that  come  iu 

*  Tlmcydides  enfleavonred  to  pve  interest  to  the  groat  plajnie  of  Athens. 
Ovifl  poetized  a  j)estilenre.  Our  own  Jlefoe  oiii)iI('j((l  liis  )>i(liiies(|ue  genius  upon 
tlie  plague  of  I.(.ndon.  It  sliould  not  lie  siipimsi  d  inissiliU'  to  ledteii.  the  horrors  nf 
such  calamities,  still  less  to  rank  their  recital  anioiig  our  liliiai y  jdeasures.  Yet, 
when  we  consider  that  our  newspapers  count  iipon  attracting  readers  by  the  posting 
up  in  conspicuous  characters  of  all  dreadful  incidents,  we  cannot  say  that  the 
public  regard  such  with  pure  abhorrcuce. 


MALEFICENT    PLEASUBE.  65 

their  train  : — the  invasions  of  the  Mongols  ;  the  conquests 
of  Eome,  responded  to  by  the  irruptions  of  the  Goths  and 
Vandals  ;  the  oppressive  rule  of  the  Normans  in  England  ; 
the  destruction  of  the  indigenous  races  of  mankind. 

To  these  we  may  add  the  long-continued  cruelties  of 
the  traffic  in  slaves;  persecutions  for  rehgious  opinions; 
the  bloody  strife  of  parties  in  the  first  French  Revolution. 

The  barbarities  of  the  shows  of  gladiators,  and  of  the 
Eoman  triumphal  processions,  are  to  us  of  the  same  melan- 
choly tenor,  although  considered  in  their  day  as  legitimate 
pleasures. 

In  the  illustration  of  Malignant  Strength,  a  special 
group  of  examples  will  be  given  to  represent  the  wide  field 
of  War  or  Conflict.  Our  maleficent  pleasure  has  itself  been 
traced  back,  with  some  plausibility,  to  the  early  struggle  for 
existence;  the  interest  remaining  even  after  the  necessity  has 
ceased.  However  this  may  be,  the  situation  of  conflict  is 
one  especially  suited  to  afford  the  gratification  of  malignity. 

BENEFICENT   STRENGTH. 

3.  Beneficent  Strength  includes  all  imposing  cir- 
cumstances of  power  put  forth  for  good  ends. 

There  is  a  wide  step  from  Righteous  Indignation  and 
Destruction  of  noxious  agents,  to  power  exercised  construc- 
tively for  good  ends.  The  element  of  maleficent  pleasure 
drops  out  of  view,  and  the  pleasure  of  benefit  to  mankind 
takes  its  place.  We  are  conscious  of  a  loss  of  unction  in 
the  change ;  it  is  like  passing  from  the  delights  of  sport  to 
the  satisfaction  of  peaceful  industry.  Our  direct  self-interest 
lends  a  charm  to  what  concerns  ourselves  as  individuals  ; 
our  regards  for  the  good  of  men  collectively  constitute  our 
interest  in  objects  of  general  benefit. 

While  beneficence  is  a  name  wide  enough  to  cover  the 
whole  of  the  amicable  sentiments  of  mankind,  and,  with  these, 
the  special  affections  rooted  in  our  constitution,  a  con- 
venient line  may  be  here  drawn  between  those  special  in- 
stincts of  Tender  Feeling  which  form  a  separate  department 
of  rhetorical  handling,  and  the  feeling  of  collective  benefits 
or  utility.  In  this  latter  type  the  acuteness  of  the  tender 
passion  is  lost  or  neutralized ;  while  its  gratification  in- 
volves much  larger  displays  of  might,  from  the  magnitude 


66  STEENGTH — CONSTITUENTS. 

of  the  operations  involved.     A  well-marked  variety  of  litera- 
ture attests  the  genuineness  and  propriety  of  the  distinction. 
The  following,   from  Wordsworth,  will   show   the  dis- 
tinction in  a  test  passage  : — 

He  spake  of  love,  such  love  as  spirits  feel 

In  worlds  whose  coarse  is  equable  and  pure 
No  fears  to  beat  away — no  strife  to  heal — 
The  past  imsigh'd  for,  and  the  future  sure ; 
Spake  of  heroic  acts  in  graver  mood 
Re%ived,  with  finer  harmony  pursued ; 

Of  all  that  is  most  beauteous — imaged  there 
In  happier  beauty  :  more  pellucid  streams, 
An  ampler  ether,  a  diviner  air. 

And  fields  invested  with  purpureal  gleams ; 

Climes  which  the  sun,  who  sheds  the  brightest  day 
Earth  knows,  is  all  unworthy  to  survey. 

The  main  elements  here  presented — love,  peace,  beauty 
— are  leading  constituents  of  the  pathetic  ;  and  yet  the 
collective  impression  is  Sublimity  rather  than  Pathos. 

The  sublime  of  beneficent  energy  may  be  traced  in  the 
great  agents  of  the  world,  when  working  for  good — Sun,  air, 
ocean,  earth;  in  the  powers  of  nature,  when  similarly 
directed  —  gravity  and  the  chemical  forces;  in  the  great 
erections  of  civilized  men  for  their  social  convenience 
— cities,  temples,  pyramids,  aqueducts,  forts  for  defence, 
ships.  The  structures  of  more  modern  times  for  manufac- 
tures and  trade  attain  to  dimensions  imposing  by  their 
strength  and  vastness  alone. 

Milton's  apostrophe  to  Light,  at  the  opening  of  Book 
III.  of  Paradise  Lod,  is  an  example  of  Sublimity  in  depicting 
a  beneficent  natural  agent.  There  is  a  transition  to  pure 
Pathos  in  the  lines  where  the  poet  bewails  his  privation 
of  sight. 

In  the  following  passage  from  Goldsmith,  we  have 
strength  attained  by  depicting  the  beneficent  agencies  of 
civilized  life : — 

And  wiser  he  whose  sympathetic  mind 

Exults  in  all  the  good  of  all  mankind. 

Ye  glitterbig  towns,  with  wealth  and  splendour  crown'd; 

Ye  fields,  where  summer  spreads  profusion  round ; 

Ye  lakes,  whose  vessels  catch  the  busy  gale  ; 

Ye  bending  swains,  that  dress  the  flowery  vale ; 

For  me  your  tributary  stores  combine  : 

Creation's  heir,  the  world,  the  world  is  mine. 

Neither  can  we  omit  the  subhme  in  human  benefactors 


BEKEFICENT  PLEASURE.  67 

The  energy  that  gave  our  race  its  great  improvements  in  the 
means  of  living,  that  formed  and  consohdated  nations  by  the 
arts  of  peace,  tliat  attained  freedom  for  the  oppressed, — 
required  to  be  on  a  scale  of  sublimity  thus  vast,  while  tinged 
with  the  glow  of  beneficent  emotions.  The  same  feeling  may 
be  evoked  by  the  great  writers  in  science,  literature  and  art. 
Wordsworth  has  thus  represented  the  influence  of 
Burns  over  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen  : — 

Through  busiest  street  and  loneliest  glen 

Are  felt  the  flashes  of  his  pen  : 

He  rules  'mid  winter  snows,  and  when 

Bees  fill  their  hives  : 
Deep  in  the  general  heart  of  men 

His  power  survives. 

It  is  an  effect  of  strength  that  is  here  produced,  though 
the  influence  depicted  is  the  power  of  giving  pleasure. 

Of  all  these  grand  achievements,  the  one  that  most 
fires  the  poetic  genius  is  Freedom.  But  here  the  maleficent 
interest  is  usually  present,  at  least  in  the  form  of  righteous  in- 
dignation and  triumph  over  oppression.     Mark  this  stanza — 

Lay  the  proud  usurper  low, 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe. 
Liberty's  in  every  blow — 

where  the  maleficent  is  two  as  against  the  beneficent  one. 

On  the  other  hand,  Tennyson's  poem,  '  Of  old  sat  Free- 
dom on  the  heights,'  is  a  good  example  of  the  purely  bene- 
ficent interest :  the  sublime  is  attained  by  the  personification 
of  Freedom,  and  the  recital  of  its  mighty  results,  the  war- 
like interest  being  left  out. 

Collins's  '  Ode  to  Liberty '  traces  the  historical  progress 
of  freedom,  and  describes  its  beneficial  results,  while 
passing  over  the  bloody  conflicts  and  sufferings  insepar- 
able from  the  struggle. 

It  will  be  afterwards  seen  that  the  greatest  stretch  of 
the  beneficent  sublime  is  shown  in  the  endeavour  to  extol 
the  goodness  of  the  Deity.  Take,  for  the  present,  the  fol- 
lowing passage  in  Cowper: — 

From  Thee  is  all  that  soothes  the  life  of  man, 

His  high  endeavour,  and  his  glad  success, 

His  strength  to  suffer,  and  his  will  to  serve. 

But  oh !  Thou  bounteous  Giver  of  all  good, 

Thou  art  of  all  Thy  gifts  Thyself  the  crown. 

Give  what  Thou  canst,  without  Thee  we  are  poor ; 

And  with  Thee  rich,  take  what  Thou  wilt  away. 


68  STBENGTH — CONSTITUENTS. 


NEUTRAL  STRENGTH. 

4.  The  exhibition  of  Power,  apart  from  the  Feehnf^s 
produced  by  its  results,  may  impart  to  the  beholder  the 
elation  of  mind  characteristic  of  the  Sublime. 

This  is  the  case  that  shows  what  Strength  is  apart  from 
its  overt  consequences.  Being  bereft  of  the  unction  that 
attends  the  production  of  maleliceut  and  of  beneficent  re- 
sults, it  relies  more  on  artistic  genius  and  skill.  The  con- 
ditions will  be  made  apparent  in  the  examples. 

Neutral  Strength  is  fully  exemplified  both  in  the  forms 
of  human  greatness  and  in  the  outer  world.  The  energy  of 
human  beings — whether  physical,  moral  or  intellectual — 
may  be  exhibited  as  mere  displays  of  force,  without  applica- 
tion to  ends.  The  instances,  however,  are  not  numerous.  A 
military  review  inevitably  suggests  the  possihle  employment 
of  the  force  in  war.  Even  games,  as  trials  of  strength,  are 
scarcely  ever  viewed  in  pure  neutrahty.  Still,  even  when  a 
great  end  is  brought  about,  the  attention  can  be  specially 
directed  upon  the  exertions -of  the  agents  in  attaining  it. 
A  remarkable  instance  may  be  seen  in  Browning's  poem, 
'  How  they  brought  the  good  news  from  Ghent  to  Aix ' ; 
where  the  action  is  given  as  a  display  of  extraordinary 
strength,  resolution  and  endurance,  without  immediate 
relation  to  the  object. 

Vastness,  too,  may  be  used  in  setting  forth  personal 
power.  Milton  sometimes  employs  it  in  his  descriptions  of 
the  angels,  both  fallen  and  unfallen,  though  oftenest  to 
heighten  effects  depending  on  maleficent  energy.  Keats 
has  no  such  reference  iu  the  following  description  of  Thea 
in  '  Hyperion ' : — 

She  was  a  goddess  of  the  infant  world ; 

By  her  m  stature  the  tall  Amazon 

Plad  stood  a  pigmy's  height :  she  would  have  ta'en 

Achilles  bj'  the  hair  and  bent  his  neck  ; 

Or  with  a  finger  stay'd  Ixion's  wheel. 

Her  face  was  large  as  that  of  Memphian  sphinx, 

Pedestal'd  haply  in  a  palace-court, 

When  sages  look'd  to  Egj'pt  for  their  lore. 

Among  the  objects  already  desigiiated  under  the  class 
Impersonal  Strength, — including  the  great  forces  of  nature 
and  the  vastness  of  the  terrestrial  and  celestial  domains, — 


SUBJECTS    SUITED   TO   PUBE    STRENGTH.  69 

there  is,  besides  maleficent  and  beneficent  agencies,  a 
considerable  range  of  the  more  strictly  neutral  aspects  of 
sublimity. 

The  characteristics  of  pure  Strength  are  given  in  the 
dimensions  of  simple  Space — namely,  extent,  height  and 
depth.  In  the  actual  world,  vastness  of  expanse,  loftiness 
and  abysmal  depth,  have  the  effect  of  power,  and  are 
recognized  sources  of  the  emotion  of  Sublimity.  The 
objects  that  possess  these  qualities  in  a  high  measure — as 
the  wide  ocean,  great  prospects  seen  from  an  elevation,  the 
starry  expanse, — being  easily  represented  to  the  imagina- 
tion, enter  into  the  poetical  renderings  of  strength. 

Dead  pressure  in  enormous  amount  is  an  addition  to  the 
sublimity  of  space  dimensions,  as  in  the  mountain  masses, 
and  the  solidity  of  the  earth,  moon,  planets,  sun  and  stars. 

The  Celestial  Grandeurs  may  be  quoted  as  the  least 
dependent  on  the  added  emotions  of  maleficence  and  bene-- 
ficence.  The  sun,  moon  and  planets,  and  a  few  scattered 
stars  as  laiadmarks,  would  serve  all  the  useful  ends  of 
objects  shining  in  the  sky  ;  the  rest  do  neither  harm  nor 
good.  The  exercise  of  imagination  upon  the  countless 
celestial  hosts — suns,  stars  and  galaxies — scattered  at  dis- 
tances on  an  enormous  scale  of  vastness,  gives  no  other 
feelings  than  the  simple  emotion  of  the  Sublime. 

The  subject  is  rarely  worked  in  this  unmingled  form,  as 
Tve  shall  see  by  the  illustrative  passages  relative  to  pure 
strength. 

Tune  or  duration,  in  large  periods,  has  an  elating  influ- 
ence, from  its  comprehending  numerous  stirring  events — the 
changes  of  nature  and  the  revolutions  of  mankind.  The 
historical  sublime  is  gained  by  a  retrospect  of  the  human 
records.  Still  larger,  although  necessarily  more  vague,  is 
the  sublimity  of  the  geological  and  the  cosmical  past.  Here 
everything  turns  upon  the  art  of  verbal  presentation.  Time, 
in  the  abstract,  is  nothing ;  the  effect  on  the  mind  needs 
the  recital  of  grand  and  imposing  incidents  and  changes  in 
sustained  and  harmonious  phraseology. 

The  interest  of  Time  readily  lends  itself  to  the  pathos 
of  death  and  decay.  Its  purity  is  best  attained  in  the  great 
cosmical  past,  and  in  the  supposed  future  of  the  universe. 

Time  and  Space  assist  one  another  in  the  conception. 
Each  taken  by  itself  must  be  filled  up  with  definite  portions 
in  order  to  widen  the  imatjination  of  the  whole. 


70  STRENGTH — VOCABULARY. 

VOCABULAEY  OF  STEENGTH. 

Language  contributes  to  Strength  in  two  ways  : 
namely  (1)  by  adequately  representing  an  object.,  situa- 
tion or  event,  possessing  the  quality  ;  (2)  by  its  uwn 
emotional  meanings  and  associations. 

Each  of  these  has  its  peculiar  conditions  or  laws ; 
although  most  commonly  we  operate  in  both  ways  at  once. 
The  first  is  the  more  laborious  to  all  concerned.  The  good- 
ness of  our  vocabulary  on  this  head  depends  upon  the 
abundance  and  expressiveness  of  its  words  and  phrases, 
whether  for  description  of  still  life  or  for  narrating  actions 
and  events.  Intellectual  adequacy,  coherence  and  in- 
telligibility must  be  secured  in  combining  words  of  the 
purely  descriptive  class. 

The  easier  mode  of  working  lies  in  the  use  of  emotion- 
tinged  words  and  phases,  of  which  the  English  language  has 
an  ample  stock.     These  we  shall  now  pass  in  review. 

The  two  modes  may  be  illustrated  by  comparing  a  geographical 
sketch  of  the  Alps  with  a  poetical  description.  Both  may  yield  an 
eSect  of  sublimity,  but  in  different  ways. 

Our  feelings  connected  with  the  Holy  Land  are  almost  entirely 
due  to  the  emotional  language  of  Scripture.  The  pictures  given  by 
travellers  and  geographers  need  an  intellectual  effort  to  conceive,  and 
are,  at  first,  disenchanting. 

Emotional  words  as  such  are  unsusceptible  of  being 
defined.  One  way  of  handling  them  is  to  state  the  classes 
that  they  severally  come  under,  and  the  speciality  of  each 
as  distinct  from  other  members  of  its  class.  The  word 
'  grand'  belongs  to  the  class  of  words  of  Strength,  and  has 
a  special  meaning  determined  by  its  application  to  cases. 
This  meaning  can  be  fixed  by  examples,  by  contrasts 
and  by  synonyms.  A  coloured  sunset,  a  lofty  peak,  a 
succession  of  thunder  and  lightning  outbursts,  are  grand. 
A  pelting,  pitiless  storm  of  rain  or  snow  is  strong  without 
being  grand.  Nothing  that  is  mean  or  insignificant  can  be 
in  itself  grand,  while  yet  the  insignificance  of  a  cause  or  of 
an  instrument  adds  to  the  grandeur  of  an  effect. 

Another  w^ay  is  simply  to  enumerate,  as  best  we  can, 
the  emotional  effects  associated  with  a  word,  after  having 
given  its  intellectual  signification.  This  method  would 
apply  to  many  class-terms,  as  'sun,'  'star,'  'mountain,' 
'ocean,'    'angel,'    'king,'  'hero,'    'father,'    '  lovei','   'tiger,' 


EMOTIONAL    MEANINGS    OF    WOEDS.  71 

serpent,'  'lamb,'  'eagle,'  'lark,'  'rose,'  'violet,'  'oak'. 
Each  of  these  terms  has  a  certain  signification  as  knowledge  : 
to  which  is  added  a  group  of  associated  feelings.  The  sun 
has  a  definition  in  Astronomy,  which  is  purely  intellectual ; 
for  poetry,  it  has  farther  meanings  :  '  power,'  '  sublimity 
of  vastness,'  'mighty  influence,'  'beneficent'  and  'malefi- 
cent '  by  turns. 

It  has  also  to  be  obsen'ed  that  emotional  associations  of  opposite 
character  sometimes  attach  to  the  same  word.  Thus,  "night"  is  a 
gladsome  term,  when  we  think  of  night  as  the  season  of  rest  and 
repose ;  it  has  terrifying  or  repulsive  associations,  when  it  calls  up 
darkness  and  evil  deeds.  So,  "  rock  "  raises  agreeable  feelings,  when 
we  view  it  as  the  emblem  of  stability  or  of  security  and  protection  ;  it 
is  otherwise  when  we  regard  it  as  the  instrument  of  destruction.  Again, 
"  death  "  has  both  pleasant  and  painful  associations  attaching  to  it, 
and  which  of  the  two  will  be  suggested  on  any  particular  occasion, 
depends  entirely  on  the  context. 

Hence  in  Poetry,  in  order  to  harmonize,  we  need  to  be 
aware  of  the  emotional  meanings  of  the  terms  that  are 
brought  together  ;  and  if  necessary,  to  state  these  meanings 
in  justification,  or  in  condemnation,  of  any  one  grouping. 
So,  in  Oratory ;  where  the  public  speaker,  whose  object  is 
to  pei'suade,  has  to  calculate  what  is  likely  to  be  the  emo- 
tional effect  of  his  language  on  the  audience. 

REVIEW  OF  THE  VOCABULARY  OF  STRENGTH. 

I. — Names  of  Subjects  or  Classes. 

Beginning  with  Subjects  of  Strength— as  already  divided 
into  Physical,  Moral,  Intellectual  and  Collective — we  may 
exemplify  as  follows  : 

Physical,  Personal  (in  connection  with  Man). — 'Giant,' 
'Samson,'  'Goliath,'  'Hercules,'  'athlete,'  'wrestler,'  'prize- 
fighter,' '  conqueror,'  '  Olympian  victor,'  '  tamer  of  steeds,' 
'lion-slayer,'  'wielder  of  the  axe,'  'thrower  of  the  javelin,' 
'  strong  of  arm,'  '  fleet  of  foot,'  '  brawny  figure,'  '  muscular 
proportions  '. 

(Animals). — '  Lion,'  *  tiger,'  '  elephant,'  '  war-horse,' 
'bull,'  'ox,'  'king  of  the  forest,'  'monster  of  the  deep,' 
'  eagle,'  vulture,'  '  whale,'  '  cobra  '. 

Moral. — 1.  '  Hero,'  '  victor,'  '  champion,'  '  combatant,' 
'  fortitude,'  'manliness,'  'hardihood,' '  courage,'  'endurance'; 
'bold,'  'brave,'  'courageous,'  'fearless,'  'dauntless,'  'magna- 


72  STRENGTH — VOCABULARY. 

nimous,'  '  resolute,'  '  determined,'  'with  face  set  like  a  flint,' 
'patriotic,'  'chivalrous,'  'jtist,'  'upright,'  'dutiful,'  'truthful'. 

2.  Names  of  the  amiable  virtues  that  may  become 
sublime  by  implying  unusual  self-restraint  :  '  humility,' 
'meekness,'  'gentleness,'  'humanity,'  'generosity,'  'phi- 
lanthropy '. 

Intdleduah — 'Wise  man,'  'scholar,'  'philosopher,'  'dun- 
geon of  learning,'  'Coryphaeus,'  'facile  princeps,'  'poet,' 
'  scientist,'  '  man  of  parts,'  '  commanding  intellect,' 
'  towering  ability,'  '  intellectual  giant,'  '  oracle,'  '  luminary,' 
'  Solomon,' *  Daniel,'  'star';  'talent,'  'genius,'  'inspiration,' 
'wit,'  'erudition,'  'invention,'  'ingenuity,'  'fame,'  'cele- 
brity,' 'renown';    'long-headed,'  'far-seeing,'  'thoughtful,' 

*  meditative,'  '  acute,'  '  critical,'  '  reflective,'  '  deep  '. 

Moral  and  Intellectual. — '  Commander,' '  general,' '  director,' 
'leader,'  'adviser,'  'guide,'  'monitor," councillor,'  'statesman,' 
'diplomatist,'  'Nestor,'  'sage,'  'man  of  sagacity,'  'reformer,' 
'lawgiver,'  'preacher,'  'peace-maker,'  'arbitrator,'  'orator,' 
'  teacher ' ;  '  shrewdness,'  '  prudence,'  '  discretion  '. 

Cullectim. — 'People," nation,'  'kingdom,'  'state,'  'realm,' 
'commonwealth,'  'body  politic,"  community,'  'city,'  'town,' 
'provi)ice,'  'population,'  'multitude,'  'mass,'  'horde,' 
'crowd,'  'host,'  'army,'  'fleet,'  'battalion,'  'regiment,' 
'squadron,'  'church,'  'school,'  ' fourth  estate '  (press),  'the 
world,' 'the  human  race'.  'Throne,'  'dominion,' 'empire,' 
'  sway,'  '  authority  ' ;  '  king,'  '  prince  of  the  earth,'  '  despot,' 
'tyrant '. 

Also  the  names  of  the  nationalities  that  have  attained 
historic  greatness  :  Egypt,  Babylon,  Persia,  Greece,  Mace- 
donia, Rome,  Arabia,  Turkey,  Germany,  France,  Britain. 

II.— Names  of  Constituents. 

MALEFICENT    STRENGTH. 

Pure  Maleficence  without  pretext  or  justification. — 'In- 
jure,' '  hurt,'  '  persecute,'  '  trample,'  '  destroy,'  '  tear  to 
pieces';  'blood-shedding,'  'hate,'  'hell-hound,'  'fiend,'  'tor- 
ment,' 'torture,'  'rob,'  'wound,'  'murder,'  'destroy,'  'van- 
dals,' 'tease,'  'irritate,'  'annoy,'  'harass,'  'vex,'  'molest, 
'cruelty,'  'diabolical  malice,'  'spite,'  'ill-will,'  'venom,' 
'  bile,'   '  gall,'    '  persecute,'    '  grind,'    '  tyrannize,'    '  oppress,' 

*  mutilate,'    '  maim,'    '  torture,'    '  rack,'    '  make    mischief,' 


NAMES   OF   CONSTITUENTS   OF   STEENGTH.  73 

'truculent,'  'detract,'  'calumniate,'  'disparage,'  'depreciate,' 
'slander,'  'libel,'  'misrepresent,'  'garble,'  'backbite,'  'de- 
fame,' '  vindictiveness,'  'malignant  chuckle,'  'punishment,' 
'wrath,'  'rancour,'  'condemnation,'  'glut  your  ire,'  'make 
to  smart,'  'rebel,'  'conspire,'  'plot,'  'intrigue,'  'assassin,' 
'rise,'  'pitiless,'  'ruthless,'  'inexorable'. 

With    pretext,   and   by   way   of    retribution. — '  Anger,' 
'  revenge,'  '  retaliation  '. 

Righteous  Indignation. 
The  same  vocabulary  qualified  by  just  cause  shown  ; 
also  more  special  terminology. — 'Avenge,'  'punish,' '  recom- 
pense,' 'chastise,'  'correct,'  'reprove,'  'rebuke,'  'thwart'; 
'retribution,'  'penalty,' '  castigatiou,'  'brought  through  the 
furnace,'  '  humiliation,'  '  affliction '. 

Destructive  Energy. 
Motive  not  specially  expressed. — '  Break,'  '  crush,' 
'  shatter,'  '  ruin,'  '  overturn,'  '  throw  down,'  '  hammer,' 
'explode,'  'blow  up,'  'flood,'  'burst,'  'blast,'  'shiver  in 
pieces,'  -choke,'  'swallow  up,'  'uproot,'  'apply  the  axe,' 
'  scourge,'  *  smite,'   '  fell,'   '  abase  '. 

Wcir  and  Conflict. 
'Attack,'  '  vanquish,'  '  cjtpture,'  '  rout,'  '  scatter,'  '  devas- 
tate,' '  slaughter ' ;  '  fury,'  '  ferocity ' ;  '  shot,'  '  broadside,' 
'cannonade,'  'level  to  the  ground,'  'pillage,'  'plunder,'  'rout,' 
'  fire  and  sword,'  '  siege,'  '  storm,'  '  massacre,'  '  ravage,' 
'  carnage  ' ;  *  victory/  '  trophy,'  '  triumph,'  '  ovation  '. 

Terror -inspiring. 
*  Frighten,'   '  intimidate,'    '  terrify  '  ;    '  cowed,'    '  terror- 
stricken,'  'aghast,'  'put  to  flight';  'shock,'  'quake,'  'crouch,' 
'daunt,'  'dismay,'  'petrify,'  'panic,'  'consternation'. 

BENEFICENT    STRENGTH. 

'  Create,'  '  produce,'  '  plan,'  '  build,'  '  sustain,'  '  renovate,' 
*  construct,'  '  erect,'  •'  rear,' '  fabricate,'  '  organize,'  '  establish,' 
'uphold,'  'stimulate,'  'cherish,'  'revive,'  'quicken';  'beue- 
factor,'  '  author,'  '  restorer,'  '  liberator  '. 

Some  of  these  may  come  under  the  head  following. 

NEUTRAL    STRENGTH. 

Power,  as  such,  with  maleficent  or  beneficent  possibility. 
— 'Force,'    'energy,'    'activity,'  'might,'    'cause,'  '  origina- 


74:  STRENGTH — VOCABULARY. 

tion,'  '  movement,'  '  motive  power,'  '  vigour,'  *  propulsion  ' ; 
*  powerful,'  '  etfective,'  '  efficacious,'  '  energetic,'  'influential,' 
'  vivacious,'  '  vehement,'  '  impetuous,'  '  impulsive ' ;  '  con- 
vulsion,' '  shock,'  '  strain  '. 

As  resistance. — '  Eock,'  '  iron,'  '  adamant  '  ;  '  stubborn,' 
'unflinching,'  'irresistible,'  'insuperable,'  'invincible,'  'un- 
yielding,' 'inexpugnable,'  '  impregnable  '. 

Special  examples  applicable  to  Space  and  to  Time. — 
'Expanse,'  'vastness,'  'extension,'  'range,'  'scope,'  'ubiquity,' 
'difiusion,'  'immensity,'  'height,'  'loftiness,'  'depth,'  'abysm,' 
'sweep,'  'scope';  'ample,'  '  capacious,'  'unbounded,'  '  im- 
measurable,' 'infinite,'  'inconceivable,'  'distant,'  'far,' 
'  remote,'  '  afar  off'. 

'Time,'  'duration,'  'persistence,'  'perpetuity,'  'years,' 
'century,'  'millennium,'  '  aeon' ;  'unceasing,'  '  endless,'  'im- 
mortal,' 'everlasting,'  'enduring,'  'perennial,'  'imperishable,' 
'  eternal,'  '  for  ever  and  ever  '. 

Inanimate  Things  (the  great  objects  and  powers  of 
Nature). — 'Star,'  'firmament,'  'constellation,'  'galaxy'; 
'ocean,'  'tide,'  'river,'  'torrent/  'cataract';  'mountain,' 
'  rock,'  '  desert,'  '  waste,'  '  forest ' ;  '  storm,'  '  tempest,' 
'hurricane,'  'whirlwind,'  'tornado,'  'cyclone,'  'blizzard,' 
'thunder,'  'volcano,'  'hail,'  'rain'. 

(Artificial  structures  on  the  great  scale). — 'Castle,' '  tower, 
'palace,'  'mansion,'  'church,'  'cathedral,'  'spire';  'fort,' 
'  stockade,'  'rampart,'  'battery,'  'barricade,'  'ship  of  war,' 
'steam-engine,'  'bridge,  'viaduct,'  'harbour,'  'colossus'; 
'  Cyclopean '. 

Abstract  Names  (Personal  and  Impersonal). — 'Night,' 
'chaos,'  'nature,'  'law,'  'force,'  'power,'  'splendour,'  'glory,' 
'majesty,'  'effulgence,'  'greatness,'  'space,'  'time,'  'the 
deep,'  'tower  of  strength,'  'heaven's  concave';  'life,' 
'death,'  'humanity,'  'divinity,'  'excellence,'  'perfectibility,' 
'superhuman  might,'  'thought,'  'imagination,'  'contempla- 
tion,' 'memory,'  'oblivion,'  'choice,'  'freedom,'  'liberty,' 
'will,'  'fear,'  'courage,'  'love,'  'hate,'  'endurance,'  'ferocity 
unparalleled,'  'friendship,'  'truth,'  'justice,'  'veracity,' 
'virtue,'  'faith,'  'hope,'  'fortune,'  'chance,'  'prosperity,' 
'calamity,'  'necessity,'  'destruction,'  'I'uin'. 

Negative  Terms  used  for  Siremjlh. — The  form  of  negation 


NEGATIVE   AND   NUMERICAL   TEEHS.  75 

is  favouraLle  to  strength,  as  involving  opposition,  resistance, 
denial,  refusal,  defiance  :  qualities  that  by  their  very  nature 
demand  a  surplus  of  energy.  As — '  infinite,'  '  illimitable,' 
'immeasurable,'  'unceasing'.  Some  are  adapted  to  signify 
the  mysteriousness of  the  world: — 'unknown,'  'unknowable,' 
'inconceivable,'  'incomprehensible,'  'ineffable,'  'inexhaus- 
tible,''the  uncreated  night'.  Of  promiscuous  signification 
are — 'unendurable,'  'incorruptible,'  'unfading,'  ' undecaying,' 
'  inopportune,'  '  nonentity  '. 

The  negative  prefixes  'mis'  and  '  dis,'  and  the  suffix 
'  less,'  impart  a  similar  energy.  So  with  the  employment  of 
'  no  '  and  '  not ' :  'no  second  place  '  is  stronger  than  '  the 
first '. 

Numerical  terms,  when  in  large  aggregate  numbers, 
contribute  to  energy.  Homer  attributes  to  Stentor  the 
shout  of  '  fifty '  men.  '  Thousands  '  and  '  tens  of  thousands ' 
enter  into  the  phraseology  of  vastness. 

Was  this  the  face  that  launch'd  a  thousand  ships  ? 

For  exercise  in  discriminating  the  terms  and  phraseology 
of  strength,  reference  may  be  made  to  Milton  anywhere. 
Gray's  '  Progress  of  Poesy '  and  '  The  Bard  '  offer  a  wide 
field  of  choice. 

CONDITIONS   OF   STEENGTH. 

1.  The  Aids  to  Qualities  in  general  being;  pre- 
supposed, there  are  certain  conditions  of  Strength  in 
particular,  common  to  all  its  various  forms. 

It  is  not  enough  for  Strength  simply  to  name  one  or 
more  objects  of  the  class  that  yield  the  emotion.  All  the 
requirements  already  enumerated— Representative  force. 
Combination  and  Concreteness,  Originality  or  Variety,  Per- 
sonality, Harmony,  Ideality — must  further  be  complied 
with.  There  is  also  involved  the  employment  of  the  ener- 
getic Figures  of  Speech — Similitudes,  Contrast,  Epigram, 
Hyperbole,  Climax. 

In  laying  down  the  conditions  more  expressly  belonging 
to  the  quality,  we  cannot  help  involving  applications  of  the 
foregoing. 

(1)  Adequate  delineation  of  the  subject,  with  due  regard 
to  the  points  of  interest. 


7G  STBENGTH — CONDITIONS. 

For  example,  as  regards  physical  strength  and  the  per- 
sonified forces  of  nature,  the  description  should  single  out 
the  precise  features  that  the  quality  depends  upon  ;  being,  at 
the  same  time,  conceivable,  consistent,  mutually  supporting, 
and  free  from  distracting  and  irrelevant  particulars. 

For  the  moral  hero,  the  method  of  delineation  combines 
laudatory  epithets  with  narrated  conduct;  all  properly 
chosen,  and  fulfilling  the  several  requisites  of  Ideality,  Har- 
mony and  Originahty  or  freshness.  The  poets  of  Greece 
afford  the  earliest  examples  of  success  in  depicting  moral 
prowess,  whether  maleficent  or  beneficent  in  its  employ- 
ment. 

It  is  under  this  head  that  we  may  see  the  propriety  of 
attending  to  the  ultimate  Constituents  of  the  quality,  as 
made  up  of  maleficent  or  beneficent  adjuncts,  together  with 
the  more  neutral  attributes. 

(2)  The  introduction  of  circumstances  that  re-act  upon 
the  quality  ;  more  especially.  Effects  and  Comparisons. 

Strength  has  no  absolute  value ;  it  subsists  upon  com- 
parison, like  height  or  depth.  Hence  the  need  of  constant 
reference  to  some  standard  of  judgment — either  the  effects 
produced,  or  some  examples  of  contrasting  inferiority. 

(3)  Harmonizing  supports  and  surroundings. 

This  condition  belongs  to  Strength  in  common  with 
other  poetic  attributes,  and  is  brought  forward  by  way  of 
reminder. 

(4)  The  Subjective  Feeling  of  the  supposed  spectator. 

This  aid,  also,  has  its  value  everywhere;  and  abun- 
dance of  cases  may  be  quoted  where  it  is  either  overdone 
or  misapplied. 

(5)  A  certain  degree  of  Eestraint  and  Suggestiveness. 
The  mildness  of  a  powerful   man,  when  his  power  is 

unmistakeable,  may  be  more  impressive  than  a  show  of 
energy.  The  laws  of  effective  suggestion  will  appear  in  the 
examples. 

2.  The  conditions  of  Strength  are  furtlier  illustrated 
by  a  review  of  the  faults  to  be  avoided  in  the  endeavour 
to  produce  it. 

(1)  The  designations  Turgidity,  Inflation,  Bombast, 
Fustian,  Falsetto,  Bathos,  Magniloquence  (in  the  bad 
sense),  point  to  the  danger  of  overdoing  the  language  of 
strength  without  the  requisite  supports. 


FAILURES    IN    STKENGTH.  77 

(2)  Arid  and  uninteresting  description,  from  relying  too 
much  on  neutral  strength,  and  dispensing  with  its  unctuous 
emotional  accompaniments. 

(3)  The  opposite  extreme  of  pushing  malevolence  to 
the  horrible,  or  beneficence  to  the  maudlin.  Also  making 
too  exclusive  use  of  the  emotions,  and  not  doing  justice  to 
the  grandeur  of  strength  in  its  neutral  character.  To  work 
up  an  imposing  picture  of  pure  strength  is  a  great  triumph 
of  poetic  art. 


STRENGTH  EXEMPLIFIED. 

In  the  detailed  examination  of  illustrative  passages, 
there  is  a  choice  of  arrangement— namely,  by  Classes  or  by 
Constituents.  If  the  classes  were  chosen — Physical,  Moral, 
&c., — there  would  still  be  wanted  a  reference  to  the  modes  of 
producing  strength,  according  to  its  ultimate  elements. 
Whence  the  preferable  course  seems  to  be  to  follow  the 
order  of  constituents,  under  which  will  fall  the  several 
classes  as  may  happen.  Moreover,  it  is  only  a  little  way 
that  we  can  go  in  obtaining  passages  under  any  one  head 
exclusively.  In  the  end,  the  choice  will  have  to  be  pro- 
miscuous, and  the  illustration  scattered  over  the  classes  and 
constituents  at  random. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  desirable,  in  the  first  instance,  to 
exemplify  separately  Maleficent  Strength  (including  the 
special  case  of  War  or  Conflict),  Beneficent  Strength  and 
Neutral  Strength. 

MALEFICENT  STEENGTH. 

Malignity  Puee  and  Simple. 

In  the  Literature  of  the  world,  a  large  place  has 
always  been  allowed  to  the  interest  of  Malignity,  regard 
being  had  to  the  necessity  of  disguising  it  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree. 

As  everywhere  else,  the  requirement  of  adequate,  select 
and  consistent  representation  is  supposed  :  although  the 
strength  of  the  passion  allows  this  to  be  in  a  measure  dis- 
pensed with.  The  more  express  artistic  condition  is  to 
keep  within  the  bounds  that  each  age  can  tolerate,  and  to 


78  STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

veil  the  nakedness  of  the  malignant  pleasure  by  pretexts, 
diversion,  poetic  glitter  and  all  the  known  means  of  refining 
the  gi'osser  kinds  of  pleasure. 

The  foremost  pretext  for  malignant  infliction  is  always 
Retribution  or  Revenge,  which  must  be  made  to  appear 
sufficient,  according  to  the  feeling  of  the  time.  As  the  sym- 
pathetic side  of  our  nature  makes  progress,  the  justification 
needs  to  be  more  ample.  A  considerable  interval  divides 
Malignant  Revenge  from  Righteous  Indignation. 

Adverting  first  to  the  literature  of  antiquity,  we  note,  as 
regards  Homer,  that  his  audience  enjoyed  thoroughly,  as 
we  do  partially,  the  malignity  and  cruelty  of  the  leading 
personages.  The  harsh  conduct  of  Achilles,  however,  is 
glossed  over  by  the  provocation  he  received,  by  his  tragic 
fate,  and  by  the  nobler  parts  of  his  character, — that  is  to 
say,  the  intensity  of  his  friendship  and  his  bursts  of 
generosity.  Moreover,  the  poet  adorns  him  with  gifts  of 
person  and  a  splendid  intellect.  These  mixtures  and  palUa- 
tives  were  quite  enough  to  appease  the  twitchings  of  sym- 
pathy for  his  victims. 

The  Greek  Tragedians  had  to  set  forth  dreadful  incidents 
of  malignant  fury,  and  to  record  many  undeserved  calamities 
happening  to  individuals.  To  give  these  last  the  appearance 
of  retribution,  they  had  to  resort  to  fictitious  crimes  and 
hereditary  liabilities.  The  arts  of  poetry  being  superadded, 
the  mixture  proved  sufficient.  When  the  disasters  seem 
too  great  for  a  family  curse,  they  are  dealt  with  theologically — 
that  is,  by  the  view^  of  divine  government  that  allows  a  share 
to  Fate  ;  desert  being  entirely  abandoned. 

Any  theory  of  the  pleasure  of  Tragedy  that  leaves  out 
men's  disinterested  delight  in  the  infliction  of  suffering  is 
unequal  to  the  explanation  of  the  phenomenon.  The  poet 
is  not  called  upon  to  choose  subjects  that  gi'ate  upon  our 
sympathies,  and  would  not  do  so  unless  he  could  light  upon 
some  adequate  compensation.  By  striking  the  malignant 
chord  of  our  natm'e,  he  does  much  more  than  allay  the 
sympathetic  pain. 

Both  Tragedy  and  Comedy  alike  repose  upon  the  gratifi- 
cation of  our  malevolence.  The  dift'erence  between  the  two 
will  be  apparent  afterwards. 

In  middle  age  Literature — as,  for  example,  in  Dante — 
suffering  is  for  the  most  part  related  to  misdeeds;  but,  in 


GLOBIFICATION    OF    THE    PRINCirLE    OF    EVIL.  79 

its   horrible   disproportion,   it    sufficiently  panders   to   the 
perennial  delight  in  malignancy. 

The  most  remarkable  illustration  of  the  appetite  for  the 
infliction  of  suffering,  with  due  provision  for  veiling  it  by 
pretexts  and  artistic  devices,  is  the  glorification  of  the 
Principle  of  Evil,  in  the  triumphs  of  the  spiritual  enemy  of 
mankind.  That  it  should  be  possible  to  make  an  interesting 
poem  out  of  the  victory  of  Satan  in  the  ruin  of  the  human 
race  can,  with  difficulty,  receive  any  other  explanation. 

There  are,  doubtless,  many  feelings  evoked  in  Paradise 
Lost ;  but  the  central  and  commanding  interest  is  malevo- 
lence. We  have  first  a  highly- wrought  picture  of  the  ex- 
pulsion of  the  Satanic  host  from  heaven,  and  their  sufferings 
in  the  fiery  regions  of  the  lower  world,  all  extremely 
grateful  to  us  ;  W'hile  the  fact  of  their  rebellion  is  enough  as 
a  pretext  for  gloating  over  their  misery. 

So  far  we  are  fully  justified.  But  when,  in  the 
sequel,  Satan  plots  the  ruin  of  our  race,  and  is  successful  in 
achieving  it,  while  his  work  is  only  partially  undone  by  the 
means  set  forth  in  the  poem,  it  requires  an  astonishing 
intensity  of  the  pleasure  of  malevolence  to  view  him  with 
any  other  feelings  than  extreme  revulsion.  Man  falls,  with- 
out any  adequate  reason,  except  that  he  was  made  with 
free-will,  and  had  to  undergo  a  test  of  his  determination  to 
adhere  to  the  right. 

A  great  part  of  the  handling  of  Satan  lies  in  the  more 
forcible  exhibition  of  his  personal  endowments  for  evil.  He 
is  represented  as  of  vast  corporeal  dimensions  and  physical 
force;  to  which  are  added  moral  determination,  courage  and 
endurance.  All  these  qualities  we  may  admire  in  anyone, 
apart  from  the  use  made  of  them.  He  has  great  intellectual 
resources — deep  contrivance,  and  powers  of  verbal  address, 
both  passionate  and  argumentative.  His  devilish  hate  is 
repeated  in  endless  variety  of  diabolical  sentiments,  to  all 
which  the  ai^thor  lends  his  splendid  flow  of  adorned  phrase- 
ology and  melodious  metre.  He  enters  on  a  daring  campaign 
against  the  hosts  of  the  Almighty,  and  maintains  a  fierce 
though  unequal  conflict.  We  feel  satisfaction  at  his  de- 
feat ;  which,  however,  is  merely  a  new  turn  given  to  our 
malevolent  gratification. 

It  is  emphatically  set  forth  (I.  211)  that  all  the  Satanic 
mischief  is  to  be  overruled,  in  the  divine  goodness  towards 


80  STEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

man,  and  in  deeper  wrath  and  vengeance  towards  man's 
seducer.  This  no  doubt  operates  as  a  diversion  of  the 
malevolent  interest. 

Then  something  is  made  of  the  remaining  goodness  in 
Satan  himself  (I.  591,  619).  This  slightly  reheves  our 
compunctions  at  being  kept  so  long  in  the  diabolical  strain. 

The  union  of  the  fiend  and  the  cunning  sneak,  in  the 
invasion  of  Paradise  and  the  temptation  of  our  first  parents, 
gives  us  the  pleasure  of  hatred  and  contempt,  in  no  small 
degree,  and,  in  the  circumstances,  we  accept  it  without  re- 
garding the  disastrous  result. 

Interspersed  through  the  poem  are  numerous  incidents 
and  descriptions  that  command  our  sympathies  with  good- 
ness. These  would  not  be  in  the  highest  degree  interesting 
in  themselves;  but  they  are  pauses  in  the  plot,  during 
which  we  recover  our  self-complacency  as  taking  delight  in 
goodness. 

The  splendour  of  the  poetry  is  a  great  palliation  of  the 
horrors  of  the  transactions.  These  are  not  given  in  a  coarse 
realism,  but  veiled  in  euphemistic  language,  and  accom- 
panied with  every  charm  that  literary  genius  can  evoke. 

The  remark  applies  to  Milton,  in  common  with  the  great 
majority  of  poets,  that  the  destructive  and  malignant 
passions  are  those  most  favourable  to  his  i-ange  of  poetic 
invention.  His  grandest  strokes  are  associated  with  the 
delineation  of  the  powers  of  evil :  the  occasional  triumph  of 
these,  and  their  ultimate  defeat,  being  equally  an  appeal  to 
om'  pleasure  in  scenes  of  suffering. 

Many  theories  have  been  advanced  to  explain  the  in- 
ferior interest  attaching  to  Paradise  Jtiegained.  There  may 
be  truth  in  all ;  yet  they  do  not  supersede  the  remark, 
that  the  plot  and  action  were  not  such  as  to  pander 
to  our  malignant  gratification  and  evoke  the  highest  displays 
of  Milton's  imaginative  power.  Satan  as  an  astute  dis- 
putant, matched  with  his  superior  in  the  art,  did  not  stir  the 
imaginative  force  of  the  poet  to  the  same  pitch  as  when,  at 
the  head  of  the  hellish  hosts,  his  shout  made  all  the  hollow 
deep  of  hell  resound,  or  when  he  had  to  encounter  Sin  and 
Death  at  the  portal  of  the  infernal  regions. 

Just  as,  with  Dante,  the  Inferno  excels  the  other 
portions  of  his  epic  in  attractiveness,  so,  with  Milton,  the 
incidents  connected  with  Satan's  devilish  machinations  are 
poetically  more  effective  than  the  benign  interference  of  his 


Goethe's  faust.  81 

Almighty  superior  to  repair  his  mischief.  Indeed,  it  cannot 
be  said  that  Milton  is  ordinarily  successful  in  depicting  the 
good  and  tender  side  of  our  nature,  as,  for  example,  in  the 
loving  intercourse  of  Adam  and  Eve  in  Paradise.* 

The  triumph  of  the  evil  principle  is  again  embodied  with 
the  highest  poetic  power  in  Goethe's  adaptation  of  the 
legend  of  Faust  and  the  Devil.  The  interest  in  malignity  is 
here  worked  to  the  utmost  possible  pitch,  and  rendered  in 
some  degree  tolerable  by  sundry  admixtures.  The  triumph 
of  evil  in  the  riiin  of  human  beings  is  strongly  represented ; 
and  requires  the  concurrence  of  our  diabolical  sympathies 
and  malevolent  pleasures  in 'order  to  its  enjoyment. 

A  highly  accomplished,  but  pleasure-loving  and  feeble- 
willed  man  is  the  hero  of  the  piece.  He  leagues  himself  to 
a  demon,  whose  mahgnity  is  embodied  in  superhuman 
cunning  and  boundless  resources.  The  chief  incident  is  a 
love-plot,  where  a  guileless  maiden  is  led  astray  to  gratify 
the  hero's  passion.  She  and  her  whole  family  are  brought 
to  a  miserable  end  ;  and  the  interest  of  tragedy  is  wrought 
up  in  their  dreadful  fate.  Paust  surrenders  himself  to  the 
demon,  in  payment  for  his  short-lived  career  of  sensual 
gratification. 

The  evil  spirit  indulges  himself  in  numerous  episodes  at 
the  expense  of  mankind :  his  satire  and  mockery  are  allowed 
free  course. 

There  are,  of  course,  as  in  Milton,  softening  and  redeem- 
ing accompaniments.  The  love  scenes  are  portrayed  by  a 
master's  hand — to  be  immediately  turned  into  mockery;  and 
the  respective  characters  of  the  ill-sorted  pair  of  lovers  are 
well  sustained.  There  is  inevitable  pathos  in  the  downfall 
of  Gretchen,  but  not  enough  to  redeem  the  gratuitous  horrors 
of  her  evil  fate. 

We  can  trace  no  redeeming  nobility  of  character  in  any 
of  the  personages:  the  tissue  of  the  piece  is  mockery,  misery 
and  disaster.  The  poetry  alone  saves  it.  As  happens  to 
Milton  and  to  many  others,  the  author's  genius  is  most 
brilliant  and  inventive  when  he  reveals  scenes  of  horror. 

Unless  we  are  prepared  for  glutting  the  malignant  side 
of   our   nature,  the   Faust   naturally   repels   more   than   it 

*  "  It  is  the  incomparable  charm  of  Milton's  power  of  poetic  style  which  gives 
such  worth  to  Paradise  Ret/ahieil,  anil  makes  a  great  poem  of  a  work  in  which 
Milton's  imagination  does  not  soar  high."    (Matthew  Arnold.) 

5 


82  STEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

attracts.  There  is  truth  in  its  moral ;  but  with  enormous 
exaggerations.  The  faults  of  Faust  and  his  mistress  are 
undoubtedly  punished  in  actual  life,  and  sometimes  severely, 
but  seldom  with  such  ruthless  severity  as  Goethe's  plot 
assumes.  A  great  scholar  that  should  desert  his  studies 
and  plunge'  into  dissipation,  a  simple  maid  overcome  by 
trinkets  and  by  the  glozing  tongue  of  a  man  of  superior 
intellect,  would  suffer  for  their  folly  and  criminality,  but  in 
ways  far  short  of  what  happened  to  Faust  and  Margaret, 
Hence,  the  questions  so  often  raised  in  connexion  with 
Goethe's  masterpiece — Is  a  poet  justified  in  making  out  the 
world  to  be  more  devil-ridden  than  it  actually  is  ?  Is  the 
reader  disposed  to  feel  an  interest  in  such  a  plot,  and,  if  he 
is,  what  is  the  feeling  in  him  that  it  principally  gratifies  ? 

Next  to  the  personified  principle  of  Evil,  we  may  rank  a 
successful  usurper,  engaged  in  ravaging  mankind  on  a  great 
scale  for  his  own  aggrandisement.  Many  of  these  figure  in 
history.  Perhaps  the  most  pronounced  example  of  the 
type  is  Timur  or  Tamburlaine,  who  has  been  converted  by 
Marlowe  from  a  historical  monster  into  a  poetical  figure. 

Two  plays,  among  the  most  popular  of  their  time,  are  de- 
voted by  the  poet  to  this  character.  The  first  presents  Tam- 
burlaine's  successful  rise,  by  sheer  conquest,  from  a  shepherd 
of  Tartary  to  Emperor  of  Asia.  It  is  an  almost  unrelieved 
scene  of  gratification  of  his  naked  lust  of  power,  and  what 
is  not  actual  fruition  is  exuberant  anticipation.  There  is 
no  pretence  that  he  is  putting  down  evil  rulers  in  the 
interest  of  better  government ;  the  one  motive  is,  "Is  it 
not  passing  brave  to  be  a  king?"  The  personal  exultation 
over  his  enemies  reaches  its  full  height  in  the  caging  and 
brutal  degradation  of  the  conquered  Bajazet  to  grace  a 
banquet.  His  disregard  of  human  misery  in  general  is 
displayed  when  he  massacres,  first,  with  circumstances  of 
peculiar  horror,  the  maiden  suppliants  from  Damascus,  and, 
afterwards,  every  single  inhabitant,  merely  to  preserve  his 
character  for  relentless  ferocity,  and  "  his  honour,  that  con- 
sists in  shedding  blood  ".  And  at  the  climax  of  success,  he 
gloats  in  idea  over  his  own  destroying  energy  : — 

Where'er  I  come,  the  Fatal  Sisters  sweat. 
And  grisly  Death,  by  running  to  and  fro, 
To  do  their  ceaseless  homage  to  my  sword. 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  USURPEB.  83 

Millions  of  souls  sit  on  the  banks  of  Styx 
Waiting  the  back-return  of  Charon's  boat ; 
Hell  and  Elysia  swarm  with  ghosts  of  men 
That  I  have  sent  from  sundry  foughten  fields, 
To  spread  my  fame  through  hell  and  up  to  heaven. 

There  are  only  the  sHghtest  palliations  of  all  this 
brutality.  Tamburlaine  gives  short  glimpses  of  a  personal 
attractiveness,  namely,  courage,  generosity  in  rewarding 
lieutenants,  and  admiration  for  a  noble  enemy ;  which, 
however,  hardly  interrupt  the  general  effect.  Even  his  love 
of  Zenocrate  ministers  to  the  prevailing  passion,  and  is 
barely  touched  on  the  tender  side. 

The  second  play  that  Marlowe  devoted  to  Tamburlaine 
is  like  the  first.  Where  the  monster  is  not  slaying,  he  is 
railing.  Zenocrate's  death  hardly  approaches  to  pathos  ; 
for  it  only  rouses  him  to  celebrate  "  her  sad  funeral  "  with 
"  many  cities'  sacrifice  ",  His  own  son  is  not  safe  from  his 
murderous  hands.  His  very  death,  though  it  "  cuts  off  the 
progress  of  his  pomp,"  is  no  real  relief  ;  for  he  keeps  up  the 
truculent  tone  to  the  end,  exhorting  his  son  and  successor 
to  "  scourge  and  control  those  slaves,"  and  his  eternal  fare- 
wells are  dashed  with  an  exultation  in  his  title,  "  the 
scourge  of  God".  In  this  second  play  occurs  the  hideous 
scene,  where  Tamburlaine  rides  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
captive  kings,  and  taunts  them  with  the  sarcastic  brutality 
of  "Holla,  ye  pampered  jades  of  Asia,"  &c.  Here  the  slight 
palliations  of  the  first  part  are  almost  wholly  absent. 

These  two  plays  were  immensely  popular  in  Elizabethan 
London,  as  Henslowe's  diary  proves  ;  and  they  appeal  with- 
out equivocation  to  the  most  inhumane  of  our  emotions. 
To-day,  they  would  be  intolerable  on  the  stage ;  and,  even 
under  the  less  vivid  I'ealization  of  reading,  the  mind  is  only 
intermittently  withheld  from  revolt  by  the  splendour  of  the 
diction,  the  grandeur  of  the  imagery,  and  the  resounding 
energy  of  the  metre. 

In  The  Pleasures  of  Hope  (I.  531),  Campbell  touches  the 
same  subject  with  his  more  delicate  hand.  He  reconciles  us 
to  its  horrors  by  scathing  denunciation,  by  the  bravery  and 
nobleness  of  the  martyrs  that  perished  for  their  religion,  and 
by  the  halo  of  his  great  theme  Hope,— -through  whose  in- 
spiration he  endeavours  to  render  bearable  the  darkest 
chapters  in  human  history. 


84  STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Shakespeare's  masterpieces  often  glory  in  the  dehneation 
of  horrors,  which  all  his  genius  cannot  redeem  for  us.  (See 
Johnson's  commentary  on  Lear.)  Yet  he  was  in  advance 
of  his  own  time ;  and,  while  necessarily  studying  his 
audience  as  he  found  it,  was  comparatively  reserved  in  his 
employment  of  the  grosser  passions,  malignity  included.* 
One  thing  he  carefully  withheld,  that  is,  war  in  its  realistic 
horrors. 

Strength  in  Combat. 

The  poetic  handling  of  a  Combat  is  governed,  in  the 
first  instance,  by  the  conditions  of  Maleficent  Strength, 
and  next  by  the  laws  of  Plot-interest. 

The  description  of  a  combat  at  arms  imites  several  elements 
of  effect.  In  the  first  place,  all  the  varieties  of  Strength — physical, 
moral,  intellectual,  collective — are  shown  at  their  utmost  pitch  in 
contiict,  and  are  signified  by  the  most  testing  indications. 

Next  is  the  two-sided  treat  of  malignancy.  The  combatants 
are  met  to  inliict  on  each  other  as  much  suffering  as  possible  ;  the 
redeeming  cu'cimistances  being  that  they  are  mutually  aggressive 
and  defensive.  Hence  the  place  given  to  war  in  the  literature  of 
every  age  ;  whether  as  History  or  as  Poetry — epic,  dramatic  and 
lyric — and  even  as  Eeligion.  Fighting  has  been  a  chief  business 
of  nations  from  the  beginning  of  time  ;  and,  when  not  in  act, 
imitations  of  it  are  resorted  to  as  recreation.  Such  are  the  shows 
of  gladiators,  tournaments,  games  and  fights  for  championship. 

In  the  personification  of  the  inanimate  world,  this  interest  is 
not  forgotten.  When  the  great  forces  of  Natvire  are  imusually 
active,  they  are  said  to  be  at  '  war  '.  Milton  {Paradise  Lost,  II. 
898-910)  employs  the  language  of  a  pitched  field  to  give  the  interest 
of  combat  to  the  '  eternal  anarchy '  of  '  Hot,  Cold,  Moist  and  Dry ' 
in  Chaos. 

The  principles  already  enunciated  for  the  malignant 
emotion  are  taken  for  granted  as  applicable  to  conflict.  The 
more  special  point  in  the  case  is  the  superadded  charm  of 
Plot  or  Story,  to  which  a  well  balanced  hostile  encounter 
happily  lends  itself. 

A  common  form  of  combat  is  that  where  we  are  inte- 
rested in  the  success  of  one  side.  The  rival  must,  at  the 
same  time,  be  powerful,  and  able  to  cause  some  (not  too 
great)  anxiety  as  to  the  result.     Tliere  will  then  be  a  due 

*  "Murdoch  [the  Schoolmaster]  brought  Titm  Andmnicm,  ami,  with  such 
dominie  elocution  as  we  may  suppose,  began  to  read  it  aloud  before  this  rustic 
audience  [the  Burns  family),  but  when  he  had  reached  the  passage  where  Tamora 
insults  Lavinia,  with  one  voice  and  '  in  an  agony  of  distress,'  they  refused  to  hear 
it  to  the  end."    (R.  L.  Stevenson,  Familtar  iitiuiies,  p.  43.) 


FIGHTING    INTEREST    IN    THE    ILIAD.  85 

alternatiou  of  blows,  with  varying  advantage  ;  the  indica- 
tions of  the  ultimate  success  of  the  favourite  may  occasion- 
ally hang  dubious,  but  on  the  whole  must  sustain  our  hopes. 
Pauses  and  retrograde  movements  violate  the  interest. 

Another  case  is  where  we  are  not  specially  interested  in 
either  side,  but  are  prepared  to  witness  a  trial  of  strength, 
and  to  gloat  over  the  suffering  mutually  inflicted.  The 
opposing  parties,  in  this  instance,  must  be  so  far  balanced 
that  the  issue  is  doubtful.  Each  must  give  effective  blows  in 
turn,  and  the  equality  must  be  maintained  for  a  consider- 
able time  ;  a  slight  failing  in  one  will  then  foreshadow  the 
termination,  but  not  decide  it,  without  several  rallies;  when 
the  suspense  has  been  sufficiently  prolonged,  the  decisive 
blow  will  fall. 

The  interest  is  more  piquant  when  the  opposing  powers 
excel  in  different  ways  ;  as  when  superior  force  is  balanced 
by  superior  skill. 

Of  all  the  forms  of  hostile  encounter,  the  single  combat 
is  the  easiest  to  render  interesting.  It  has  the  further 
advantage,  of  which  poets  gladly  avail  themselves,  that  it 
permits  in  addition  a  war  of  words  between  the  combatants. 
Several  notable  examples  are  provided  by  Homer,  from 
which  we  can  gather  his  conception  of  effect. 

The  first  contest  in  the  Iliad  is  the  duel  of  Paris  and 
Menelaus — a  mere  fiasco  from  Paris's  cowardice,  for  which  his 
beauty  of  person  is  considered  a  sufficient  excuse.  The  contest, 
however,  has  to  be  renewed  in  a  more  formal  manner,  and  with  a 
view  to  decide  by  single  combat  the  quarrel  that  led  to  the  war. 
The  issiae  is  equally  unsatisfactory.  Paris  aims  one  blow  without 
effect ;  Menelaus  strikes  twice,  and  seizes  Paris  to  carry  him  away 
bodily,  when  the  goddess  of  Love  interferes  and  saves  him.  Con- 
fiicts  of  this  character  are  necessarily  devoid  of  mterest  for  us. 

Next  Menelaus  receives  a  wound  from  Pandarus  unseen,  there 
being  no  fight. 

The  terrible  two  days'  battle,  so  ruinous  to  the  Greeks  in  the 
absence  of  Achilles,  is  treated  by  a  general  description  ;  the  jDoet 
choosing  as  the  salient  feature  '  the  mingled  shouts  and  groans  of 
men  slaying  and  being  slain,'  and  vivifying  it  by  a  simile,  striking 
in  itself,  but  so  far  removed  in  kind  as  to  be  wanting  in  picturesque 
force:  two  mountam  torrents,  arising  apart,  descend  and  meet 
in  the  same  ravme,  and  'the  shepherd  hears  the  roar'.  Then 
follows  in  detail  a  long  series  of  single  combats  ;  such  being  the 
poet's  preference  throughout.  They  are  savage  in  the  last 
degree ;  but  seldom  contain  any  effective  parrying  before  the 
fatal  blow.     There  are  many  verbal  encounters  previous  to  the 


86  STKEXGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

action,  but  these  merely  add  to  the  expression  of  savagery.  Tlio 
gods  interfere  to  protect  their  favourites,  and  heal  tlieir  wounds. 
The  brutahty  of  the  stmgp^le  is  in  itself  utterly  repulsive,  but  we 
are  compelled  by  the  poetical  power  lavished  on  the  descriptions 
to  wade  through  it,  and  in  some  degree  to  condone  it.  Among  the 
redeeming  interludes  we  have  the  touching  and  higlily  wrought 
scene  of  Hector  and  Andi'omache  with  theii-  little  boy. 

The  thii-d  battle,  carried  on  after  the  embassy  to  Achilles,  is 
also  made  up  of  single  combats,  with  occasional  charges  of  small 
bands,  as  the  Locrian  bowmen  of  the  Lesser  Ajax  ;  with  the  usual 
amount  of  celestial  intei-ferences. 

At  the  crisis  of  this  fight  occurs  the  doom  of  Pati-oclus,  after  a 
more  than  usually  protracted  encounter,  but  still  not  enough  to 
make  a  highly  sensational  fight.  He  brhigs  on  his  fate  by  rash- 
ness;  divine  interference,  as  before,  destroys  the  interest  of  the 
three  or  four  turns  in  the  story  of  his  death. 

There  remains  only  the  death  of  Hector,  the  slayer  of 
Patroclus.  This  is  the  work  of  Achilles,  and  is  the  gi-eatest  con- 
flict in  the  poem.  As  in  the  other  personal  contests,  there  is  first 
a  fierce  verbal  encoimter,  worked  up  with  Homeric  genius ; 
and  then  a  very  few  thrusts,  with  the  usual  imfairness  on  the  part 
of  the  celestial  powers,  who  provide  Achilles  with  armour,  and 
practise  upon  Hector  a  cruel  deceit.  The  permanent  interest  con- 
sists purely  in  exemplifying  malignant  revenge,  with  little  to 
redeem  it  beyond  the  poet's  genius  of  expression.  There  is  no  art 
in  the  management  of  the  details  of  the  fight,  notwithstanding 
that,  being  unhistorical,  the  poet  could  make  it  anythin"  he 
pleased. 

The  Odj/ssey  is  not  a  poem  of  war,  but  of  adventure, 
to  which  fighting  is  subsidiary. 

The  vengeance  of  Ulysses  on  his  arrival  at  his  home  is 
made  up  of  the  coarsest  slaughter,  but  gives  the  first  example 
of  an  incident  that  never  fails  to  afford  pleasure,  the  punish- 
ment of  a  bully  by  a  despised  and  seemingly  insignificant 
rival.    Our  malignant  gratification  has  free  scope  in  such  a  case. 

In  the  course  of  his  adventures,  Ulysses  gave  the  cue  to 
another  great  stroke  of  modern  romance  for  the  delecta- 
tion of  the  young,  namely,  in  the  putting  out  of  the  one  eye 
of  the  monster  Polyphemus. 

In  Theocritus,  the  conquest  of  brute  force  by  agility  is 
exemplified. 

In  Virgil,  conflicts  are  frequent;  the  culminating  example 
being  the  final  struggle  of  iEneas  with  Turnus. 

Conflicts  on  the  great  scale  of  armies,  and  on  the  small 
scale  of  personal  encounters,  are  repeated  without  end,  both 


CONFLICTS  IN  MODERN  POETRY.  87 

in  history  and  in  poetry.  Apart  from  felicity  of  language, 
which  depends  on  individual  genius,  the  most  artistic  hand- 
ling is  achieved  by  the  moderns. 

Conflict  is  the  life  and  soul  of  modern  chivalry  ;  being 
sanctified  by  the  triumph  of  the  right.  In  Spenser's  '  Faerie 
Queen,'  there  is  a  perpetual  series  of  conflicts  ;  and  the 
suspense  of  plot  is  partially  attended  to. 

Referring  to  Shakespeare,  we  can  quote  the  battle  of 
Bosworth  Field,  where  the  action  is  centred  in  the  single 
combat  between  Eichard  and  Eichmond. 

Milton  takes  care  to  provide  the  interest  of  great  battles ; 
and  also  permits  an  approach  to  single  combat.  He  employs 
very  fully  the  ancient  device  of  making  the  combatants 
first  engage  in  a  war  of  words,  as  in  the  case  of  Gabriel  and 
Satan  {Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV.),  and  Abdiel  and  Michael 
with  Satan  (Book  VI.).  He  imitates  the  ancient  methods, 
further,  by  the  introduction  of  divine  interference  to  settle 
the  conflict,  as  with  both  the  contests  just  quoted ;  in  the 
first  even  preventing  the  actual  contest  altogether. 

Gray's  Ode  on  '  The  Triumphs  of  Owen '  concentrates  the 
interest  on  Owen's  personal  prowess  : — 

Where  he  points  his  purple  spear, 
Hasty,  hasty  rout  is  there. 

The  management  of  fights  is  one  of  Scott's  special  gifts.  For  a 
personal  contest,  we  have  nothing  to  surpass  the  murderous  combat 
between  Fitz-James  and  Roderick  Dhu.  Our  sympathies  are  but 
moderately  engaged  by  either.  Roderick  Dhu  is  not  sufficiently  in 
tlie  wrong  to  make  us  take  pleasure  in  his  discomfiture  ;  while  he  has 
some  noble  and  chivalrous  traits  that  win  our  esteem,  and,  moreover, 
has  to  avenge  a  kinsman's  blood.  Scott,  like  ]\Iilton,  follows  the 
Homeric  usage,  which  is  genuinely  artistic,  of  making  the  combatants 
first  engage  in  a  war  of  words,  full  of  lofty  defiance  on  both  sides. 
Their  courage  and  determination  are  grateful  to  our  feelings,  as 
pictures  of  moral  strength.  Scott  retains  that  last  trace  of  the  super- 
natural, the  use  of  prophecy.  The  advantage  of  the  device  is  doubtful ; 
for,  although  it  adds  something  to  the  romantic  interest,  it  detracts 
from  the  sense  of  truth  and  reality. 

The  Saxon  had  the  best  of  the  argument  from  prophecy,  and  does 
not  scruple  to  say  so.  The  effect  upoa  Roderick  Dhu  is  terrific,  and 
the  serious  work  begins  : — 

Dark  lightning  flash'd  from  Roderick's  eye — 

"  Soars  thy  presumption,  then,  so  high, 

Because  a  wretched  kern  ye  slew. 

Homage  to  name  to  Roderick  Dhu  ? 

He  yields  not,  he,  to  man  nor  Fate  ! 

Thou  add'st  but  fuel  to  my  hate  : — 

My  clans-man's  blood  demands  revenge.  ' 


88  STKENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION, 

This  splendid  passage  does  justice  to  the  outburst  of  high  passion 
provoked  by  the  Saxon's  insolence.  Hate  and  revenge  are  at  a  white- 
heat.  Then  there  is  a  moment's  pause,  Fitz-James  seemingly  hanging 
back,  and  the  chieftain  resumes  : — 

"  Not  yet  prepared  ?— By  heaven,  I  change 

My  thought,  and  hold  thy  valour  light 

As  that  of  some  vain  carpet-knight, 

Who  ill  deserved  my  courteous  care. 

And  whose  best  boast  is  but  to  wear 

A  braid  of  his  fair  lady's  hair." 
The  poet  here  shows  his  art  in  leading  Roderick  to  over-vaunt  his 
position — a  prognostic  of  his  probable  downfall.  The  contempt  of  the 
speech  has  its  effect  upon  his  rival ;  and  the  reply  is  less  violent  in 
tone,  but  more  energetically  sustained.  The  Saxon  makes  a  claim  to 
equality  on  the  cMvalrous  point,  and  dares  to  stake  his  future  ou  the 
single  combat : — 

"  I  thank  thee,  Roderick,  for  the  word  1 

It  nerves  my  heart,  it  steels  my  sword  ; 

For  I  have  sworn  this  braid  to  stain 

In  the  best  blood  that  warms  thy  vein. 

Now,  truce,  farewell !  and  ruth,  begone  1 — 

Yet  think  not  that  by  thee  alone. 

Proud  Cliief  !  can  courtesy  be  shown  ; 

Tho'  not  from  copse,  or  heath,  or  cairn, 

Start  at  my  whistle  clansmen  stern, 

Of  this  small  horn  one  feeble  blast 

Would  fearful  odds  against  thee  cast. 

But  fear  not — doubt  not — which  thou  wilt — 

We  try  this  quarrel  hilt  to  hilt. " 

At  this  point  ends  the  speech-maldng,  and  begins  the  death  struggle. 
The  few  words  describing  the  preparation  are  well  chosen ;  the  steps  of 
the  action  are  clearly  and  vividly  presented. 

Then  each  at  once  his  falchion  drew, 

Each  on  the  ground  his  scabbard  threw, 

Each  look'd  to  sun,  and  stream,  and  plain. 

As  what  they  ne'er  might  see  again  ; 

Then  foot,  and  point,  and  eye  opposed, 

Iia  dubious  strife  they  darkly  closed. 

The  third  and  fourth  lines  are  strikingly  thrown  in :  whether  or 
not  the  combatants  would  actually  arrest  their  movements  for  the 
survey,  it  would  be  highly  becoming  their  position  to  do  so. 

Ill  fared  it  then  with  Roderick  Dhu, 

That  on  the  field  his  targe  he  threw. 

Whose  brazen  studs  and  tough  bull -hide 

Had  death  so  often  dash'd  aside  ; 

For,  train'd  abroad  his  arms  to  wield, 

Fitz-James's  blade  was  sword  and  shield. 

He  practised  every  pass  and  ward, 

To  thrust,  to  strike,  to  feint,  to  guard  ; 

While  less  expert,  tho'  stronger  far, 

The  Gael  maintain'd  miequal  war. 


SCOTT's    FITZ- JAMES    AND   EODEKICK   DHU.  89 

It  may  be  said  that  Scott  prematurely  discloses  the  almost  certain 
issue  of  the  struggle,  by  gi^ing  in  advance  a  reason  for  the  ending. 
This  is  so  far  true  ;  but  indeed  in  his  introduction  of  the  prophecy  he 
had  already  prepared  our  minds  for  the  actual  conclusion.  Still,  even 
when  we  know  how  a  struggle  is  to  terminate,  we  can  feel  a  strong 
interest  in  seeing  by  what  steps  and  wavering  turns  the  end  is  reached. 
So  it  is  in  the  present  case. 

Three  times  in  closing  strife  they  stood. 
And  thrice  the  Saxon  blade  draiik  blood ; 
No  stinted  draught,  no  scanty  tide. 
The  gushing  flood  the  tartans  dyed. 
Fierce  Eoderick  felt  the  fatal  drain. 
And  shower'd  his  blows  like  wintry  rain  ; 
And,  as  firm  rock,  or  castle  roof, 
Against  the  winter  shower  is  proof, 
The  foe,  invulnerable  still, 
Foil'd  his  wild  rage  by  steady  skill ; 
Till,  at  advantage  ta'en,  his  brand 
Forced  Roderick's  weapon  from  his  hand, 
And,  backward  borne  upon  the  lea, 
Brought  the  proud  Chieftain  to  his  knee. 

The  action  here  is  perhaps  too  rapid;  the  effect  of  Fitz- James's 
superiority  too  immediate.  More  parley  might  have  been  allowed 
before  Roderick  Dhu  had  sunk  so  low.  The  author,  however,  has  for 
us  a  surprise  in  store ;  the  energy  of  Roderick  in  his  prostrate  condition 
protracts  the  issue,  and  very  nearly  turns  the  scale.  The  two  exchange 
a  few  brief  words,  at  the  very  highest  tension  of  defiance. 

"  Now,  yield  thee,  or,  by  Him  who  made 

The  world,  thy  heart's  blood  dyes  my  blade !  " 

"  Thy  threats,  thy  mercy,  I  defy  ! 

Let  recreant  yield,  who  fears  to  die." 

Then  follows  the  splendidly  sustained  description  of  Roderick's 
desperate  move : — 

Like  adder  darting  from  his  coil. 

Like  wolf  that  dashes  through  the  toil. 

Like  momitain-cat  who  guards  her  young, 

Full  at  Fitz-James's  throat  he  sprung  ; 

Received,  but  reck'd  not  of  a  wound. 

And  lock'd  his  arms  his  foeman  round. 
In  this  attitude  he  can  still  command  a  speech,  perhaps  rather  too 
highly  illustrated  for  reasonable  probability  in  the  situation  :— 

"  Now,  gallant  Saxon,  hold  thine  own  ! 

No  maiden's  hand  is  round  thee  thrown  ! 

That  desperate  grasp  thy  frame  might  feel, 

Through  bars  of  brass  and  triple  steel !  " 

A  fearful  scene  ensues,  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  ardent  lovers  of 
a  death  struggle.  The  author's  selection  of  circumstances  is  suggestive 
in  the  highest  degree.  Unlike  many  poetical  descriptions,  it  enables 
us  With  a'very  slight  effort  to  realize  the  phases  of  the  struggle.      No- 


90  BTEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

thing  could  be  omitted  ;  and  nothing  more  is  needed  to  give  us  tlie  full 
glut  of  a  bloody  business. 

They  tug,  they  strain  ! — down,  down  they  go, 
The  Gael  above,  Fitz-James  below. 
The  Chieftain's  gripe  his  throat  compress'd, 
His  knee  was  planted  in  his  breast ; 
His  clotted  locks  he  backward  threw, 
Across  his  brow  his  hand  he  drew, 
From  blood  and  mist  to  clear  his  sight, 
Then  gleam'd  aloft  his  dagger  bright ! — 
—  But  hate  and  fury  ill  supjDlied 
The  stream  of  life's  exhausted  tide. 
And  all  too  late  the  advantage  came, 
To  turn  the  odds  of  deadly  game  ; 
For,  wMle  the  dagger  gleam'd  on  high, 
Reel'd  soul  and  sense,  reel'd  brain  and  eye. 
Down  came  the  blow  !  but  in  the  heath 
The  erring  blade  found  bloodless  sheath. 
The  struggling  foe  may  now  imclasp 
The  faulting  Chief's  relaxing  grasp  ; 
Unwounded  from  the  dreadful  close, 
But  breathless  all,  Fitz-James  arose. 

The  circumstance  of  skill  and  steadiness  overpowering 
brute  force  and  passion,  is  an  agreeable  manifestation  of  the 
quality  of  strength,  and  is  a  favourite  point  in  romance. 
Much  as  we  like  to  see  any  man  possessing  extraordinary 
strength,  we  are  especially  gratified  at  finding  the  coarser 
forms  of  energy  made  to  succumb  before  the  more  elevated 
and  refined. 

.  Tennyson  has  not  omitted  to  describe  the  single  combat. 
In  '  Gareth  and  Lynette,'  Gareth  has  three  fights  :  one  with 
the  Morning  Star,  a  Second  with  the  Noonday  Sun,  and  the 
third  with  the  Evening  Star.  The  last  is  most  protracted, 
there  being  included  in  the  attractions  of  the  fight  Lynette's 
shi'ill  encouragement  to  Gareth.  The  first  and  third  fights 
are  preluded  by  a  touch  or  two  of  Homeric  vituperation. 
Also,  in  '  Geraint  and  Enid  '  there  is  a  set  single  combat 
between  Geraint  and  the  Sparrow-Hawk. 

In  Mr.  M.  Arnold's  poem,  '  Sohrab  and  Eustum,'  we 
have  a  recent  example  of  the  working  up  of  a  life  and  death 
encounter.  This  work  stands  close  examination  for  its 
artistic  development ;  but  the  interest  is  removed  to  a 
much  higher  sphere,  and  partakes  more  of  Pathos  than  of 
Malignity. 


CONTESTS   IN   VAEIOUS    FORMS.  91 

The  conflicts  of  armies  in  mass  involve  a  different  manage- 
ment. They  may  be  described  with  the  precision  of  King- 
lake,  which  embodies  both  comprehensiveness  and  minute 
details,  with  a  few  touches  of  personal  encounter.  This  is 
the  mode  adapted  to  modern  warfare.  Collective  strength, 
if  well  conceived,  has  an  impressiveness  of  its  own,  but  it  is 
dependent  on  the  picturesqueness  of  the  description.  For 
the  more  strictly  poetic  treatment  of  mass  engagements,  we 
may  refer  to  Scott's  'Battle  of  Plodden,'  to  Carlyle's 
battles  in  Gromicell  and  in  Friedrich,  and  to  Macaulay,  who 
has  furnished  two  styles — the  one  in  the  Hiatury  of  England, 
the  other  in  the  Lays. 

The  Tournament  is  a  form  of  single  combat,  which,  when 
given  in  fiction,  obeys  all  the  laws  of  interest  of  the  fight. 
Scott  rejoices  in  this  also  ;  and  Tennyson  has  many  occa- 
sions for  it  in  '  The  Idylls  of  the  King  '. 

The  Chase  is  a  variety  of  the  same  all-pervading  interest, 
and  is  worked  up  with  poetical  vividness  by  the  great 
masters.  The  Lady  of  the  Lake  (Canto  I.)  is  a  sufli- 
cient  example.  As  the  pursuit  and  slaughter  of  destructive 
and  ferocious  animals,  it  commanded  general  sympathy,  and 
gratified  our  natural  malevolence  without  any  revulsion  of 
feeling.  The  case  is  very  much  altered  when  the  subjects 
are  the  feebler  animals,  whose  mischief  could  easily  be  pre- 
vented in  other  ways. 

Contests  of  strength  and  prowess  for  the  mere  assertion 
of  superiority,  without  slaughter,  are  a  refinement  upon 
the  interest  of  conflict.  This  is  the  spirit  of  games  of 
strength  and  skill,  which  admit  of  a  poetic  rendering. 
The  Odyssey  affords  a  case,  when  Ulysses  contends  with 
the  Phaeacians  at  the  palace  of  Alcinous  ;  the  interest  is 
heightened  by  interchange  of  taunting  speech,  and  the  dis- 
comfiture of  the  original  aggressor.  In  the  'Rape  of  the 
Lock,'  Pope  introduces  a  game  at  cards,  and  handles  it  in 
his  felicitous  manner. 

The  highest  refinement  of  all  is  the  War  of  Words,  which 
is  eminently  suited  to  poetry,  and  is  splendidly  exemplified 
in  the  great  poets  of  ancient  and  modern  times.  Vitupera- 
tion, more  or  less  veiled,  sarcasm  and  innuendo,  and,  lastly, 


92  STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

cool  argument,  may  severally  be  employed  as  weapons ; 
and  all  are  interesting.  Nevertheless,  the  laws  of  evolution, 
as  already  typified  in  the  primitive  duel  for  life,  have  to 
be  fully  observed.  The  management  of  such  encounters 
leads  us  into  the  very  core  of  dramatic  art.  That  one  of  tiie 
two  should  be  humiliated  is  essential ;  or,  if  the  reader  has 
no  favourite,  he  expects  both  to  suffer  by  turns. 

The  combative  interest  of  mankind  finds  endless  grati- 
fication in  the  fight  of  state  parties,  in  rival  orators,  in  con- 
tests of  diplomacy  and  tactics,  in  litigation  before  the 
Courts  of  Law,  and  in  the  competitive  struggle  among  man- 
kind generally.  The  novelist  finds  his  account  in  all  these 
manifestations,  and  augments  their  natural  charm  by  his 
genius  and  his  art. 


BENEFICENT   STRENGTH. 

To  exhibit  the  various  classes  of  Strencrth — Phj^sical, 
Moral,  Intellectual,  Collective,  Natural,  Supernatural — 
as  working  for  Beneficent  ends,  is  one  of  the  cherished 
departments  of  literary  effect. 

Beneficence,  viewed  as  such,  appeals  to  our  Tender 
Emotion,  and  its  poetical  handling  is  ruled  by  that  circum- 
stance. The  forms  of  Beneficent  action  that  manifest  the 
quality  of  Strength  are  chiefiy  the  displays  of  unusual 
power  directed  towards  objects  of  general  utility.  A  great 
law-giver  like  Solon,  the  authors  of  civilized  progress,  the 
founders  of  states  by  the  arts  of  peace,  call  us  at  once  to 
witness  their  prowess  in  overcommg  difiiculties  and  their 
genius  in  originating  improvements.  King  Alfred  was 
both  a  warlike  hero  and  a  civilizing  monarch.  Pope  has 
celebrated  the  Man  of  Eoss ;  both  Burke  and  Bentham 
composed  eulogies  of  Howard.  The  endurance  and  resource 
of  successful  missionaries  of  civilization  are  coupled  in  the 
same  picture  with  their  beneficent  achievements. 

The  liberation  of  oppressed  peoples,  the  rescue  of  the 
%actims  of  a  strong  man's  cruelty,  exhibit  the  most  stimu- 
lating forms  of  strength  as  beneficence;  the  reason,  obviously, 
being  that  the  higher  satisfaction  of  revenge  enters  into  the 
case.  Examples  must  be  found  where  the  interest  is 
divided  exclusively  between  the  delineation  of  power  and 


CELEBRATION   OP   CIVILIZERS.  93 

the  production  of  good.     The  reason  for  preferrin  g  general 

utihty  to  the  advantage  of  single  individuals  is  simply  that, 

in  this  last  case,  our  regard  for  the  person  is  too  engrossing. 

We  may  commence  with  an  example  from  Pope  : — 

Till  then,  by  nature  crown'd,  each  patriarch  sate. 
King,  priest,  and  parent  of  his  growing  state  ; 
On  him,  their  second  providence,  they  hung, 
Their  law  his  eye,  their  oracle  his  tongue. 
He  from  the  wandering  furrow  call'd  the  food, 
Taught  to  command  the  fire,  controul  the  flood, 
Draw  forth  the  monsters  of  th'  abyss  profound, 
Or  fetch  th'  aerial  eagle  to  the  ground. 

This  is  a  highly  successful  attempt,  in  Pope's  manner,  to 
celebrate  the  civilizers  of  early  society.  In  addition  to  the 
vigour  and  condensation  of  the  language,  it  presents  three 
points  of  interest.  First,  the  picture  of  the  lofty  elevation  of 
the  chief  of  a  primitive  state.  Second  (lines  3  and  4),  the 
admiring  submission  of  his  people — a  legitimate  and  effective 
aid  to  the  reader's  feelings.  Third,  the  detail  of  his  feats  of 
power — all  beneficent — with  only  the  smallest  tincture  of 
malignancy.  The  operations  described  are  in  themselves 
familiar,  and  could  be  stated  in  plain  prose,  but  Pope  gives 
them  elevation  by  the  choice  of  a  vigorous  poetical  phi-ase- 
ology,  duly  constrained  into  metre. 

The  following  lines  of  Shelley  give  the  effect  in  his  more 
glowing  manner  : — 

For,  with  strong  speech,  I  tore  the  veil  that  hid 
Nature,  and  Truth,  and  Liberty,  and  Love, — 
As  one  who  from  some  mountain's  pyramid 
Points  to  the  unrisen  sun ! — the  shades  approve 
His  truth,  and  flee  from  every  stream  and  grove. 

The  two  first  lines  have  a  vigour  of  their  own  from  the 
intensity  of  the  figure — '  tore  the  veil,'  and  from  the 
cumulation  of  high,  but  not  difficult,  abstractions,  well 
arranged  for  a  climax.  The  simile  in  the  three  remaining 
lines  is  an  agreeable  illustration  in  itself,  without  adding  to 
the  compressed  energy  of  the  previous  lines.  There  is  a 
slight  infusion  of  destructive  interest  in  '  tearing  the  veil,' 
and  an  approach  to  the  same  interest  in  the  sun's  conquest 
over  the  shades  of  night ;  so  difficult  is  it  to  achieve  a  great 
effect  of  energy  without  some  aid  from  the  destructive  side 
of  power. 

The  Hemes  and  Hero-worship  of  Carlyle  includes  biogra- 
phical sketches  of  six  great  men,  distinguished  in  different 


94  STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

■ways,  and  all  handled  by  his  peculiar  force  of  genius,  which, 
however,  seldom  dwells  upon  purely  beneficent  action  apart 
from  the  interest  of  conquei'ing  and  destructive  energy. 
The  Essay  on  Francia,  the  Dictator  of  Paraguay,  depicts 
the  author's  favourite  type  of  the  benevolent  despot. 

Our  prose  literature  has  done  fullest  justice  to  the  theme 
of  beneficent  strength.  The  narrative  biography  far  sur- 
passes the  picturesque  eulogy  in  expressing  gi-eat  qualities, 
whether  of  body  or  of  mind.  The  display  of  power  is  most 
impressive  when  given  with  illustrative  incidents  testifying 
directly  to  its  amount,  by  difiiculty  overcome,  by  endurance 
and  by  fertility  of  device.  Under  the  same  method  of 
detail,  the  greatness  of  the  results  can  be  brought  home. 
The  writer  will  not  neglect  to  add  the  subjective  accompani- 
ment of  expressed  admiration,  both  on  his  own  part,  and  on 
the  part  of  concurring  admirers. 

The  noble  tribute  of  Wordsworth  to  the  heroism  of 
Grace  Darling  is  a  specimen  of  the  poetry  of  Strength  in  the 
widest  compass.  The  picture  of  the  wreck,  the  resolve  of 
the  Daughter  and  the  Father,  the  fury  of  the  crossing  billows, 
lead  up  to  the  heroic  struggle,  thus  briefly  told  : — 

True  to  the  mark, 
They  stem  the  torrent  of  that  perilous  gorge, 
Their  arms  still  strengthening  with  the  strengthening  heart, 
Though  clanger,  as  the  Wreck  is  neared,  becomes 
More  imminent. 

The  rescue  is  a  piece  of  fine  pathos.  The  most  characteristic 
effect  is  a  bold  use  of  the  subjective  strain,  rising  to  a  re- 
ligious pitch : — 

Shout,  ye  waves, 
Send  forth  a  song  of  triumph :  waves  and  winds 
Exult  in  this  deliverance  wrought  through  faith 
In  Him  whose  Providence  your  rage  hath  served ! 
Ye  screaming  sea-mews,  in  the  concert  join  ! 

Cowper's  '  Chatham  '  is  a  noble  picture  of  beneficent 
strength.  Full  justice  is  done  both  to  the  strength  and  to 
the  beneficence.     First,  as  to  the  strength  : — 

In  him  Demosthenes  was  heard  again ; 
Liberty  taught  him  her  Athenian  strain  ; 
She  clothed  liiui  with  autliority  and  awe. 
Spoke  from  his  lips,  and  in  his  looks  gave  law. 
His  speech,  his  form,  his  action  full  of  grace, 
And  all  his  country  beanung  in  his  face. 
He  stood  as  some  inimitable  hand 
Would  strive  to  make  a  Paul  or  Tully  stand. 


EULOGY  OF  INTELLECTUAL  GREATNESS.        95 

Next,  as  to  the  work  :— 

No  sycophant  or  slave  that  dared  oppose 
Her  sacred  cause,  but  trembled  when  he  rose  ; 
And  every  venal  stickler  for  the  yoke, 
Felt  himself  crushed  at  the  first  word  he  spoke. 

An  example  of  lofty  eulogy,  by  poetic  comparisons  ex- 
clusively, is  furnished  in  De  Quincey's  rebuke  of  those  that 
would  mix  up  with  Shakespeare's  greatness  the  considera- 
tion of  his  birth  : — 

''  Both  parties  violate  the  majesty  of  the  subject.  "\i\Tien  we  are 
seeking  for  the  sources  of  the  Euphrates  or  the  St.  La\vrence,  we 
look  for  no  proportions  to  the  mighty  volume  of  waters  in  that 
particular  summit  amongst  the  chain  of  moimtains  which  em- 
bosoms its  earliest  fountains,  nor  are  we  shocked  at  the  obscurity 
of  these  fountains.  Pursumg  the  career  of  Mahommed,  or  of  any 
man  who  has  memorably  impressed  his  own  mind  or  agency  upon 
the  revolutions  of  mankind,  we  feel  solicitude  about  the  circimi- 
stances  which  might  surround  his  cradle  to  be  altogether  unseason- 
able and  impertinent.  Wliether  he  were  born  in  a  hovel  or  a 
palace,  whether  he  passed  his  infancy  in  squalid  poverty,  or 
hedged  arormd  by  the  glittering  spears  of  body-guards,  as  mere 
questions  of  fact  may  be  interesting,  but,  in  the  light  of  either 
accessories  or  counter-agencies  to  the  native  majesty  of  the  sub- 
ject, are  trivial  and  below  all  philosophic  valuation.  So  with 
regard  to  the  creator  of  Lear  and  Hamlet,  of  Othello  and  Macbeth  ; 
to  him  from  whose  golden  turns  the  nations  beyond  the  far  Atlantic, 
the  multitude  of  the  isles,  and  the  generations  miborn  in  Austra- 
lian climes,  even  to  the  realms  of  the  rising  sun,  must  in  every  age 
draw  perennial  streams  of  intellectual  life,  we  feel  that  the  little 
accidents  of  birth  and  social  condition  are  so  unspeakably  below 
the  grandeur  of  the  theme,  are  so  irrelevant  and  disproportioned 
to  the  real  interest  at  issue,  so  incommensurable  with  any  of  its 
relations,  that  a  biographer  of  Shakespeare  at  once  denounces 
himself  as  below  his  subject  if  he  can  entertain  such  a  question  as 
seriously  affecting  the  glory  of  the  poet.  In  some  legends  of 
saints,  we  find  that  they  were  born  with  a  lambent  circle  or 
golden  aureola  about  their  heads.  This  angelic  coronet  shed  light 
alike  upon  the  chambers  of  a  cottage  or  a  palace,  upon  the  gloomy 
limits  of  a  dungeon  or  the  vast  expansion  of  a  cathedral ;  but  the 
cottage,  the  palace,  the  dungeon,  the  cathedral,  \yere  all  equally 
incapable  of  adding  one  ray  of  colour  or  one  pencil  of  light  to  the 
supernatural  halo.'' 

The  grandeur  of  Shakespeare's  work  and  influence  is 
finely  represented  by  select  touches  in  the  fifth  sentence 
('  So  with  regard  ' — ). 

The  intellect  of  Newton  has  often  been  celebrated,  but 


96  STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

not  with  a  full  combination  of  the  arts  of  eulogy.  The 
difficulties  are  great.  As  an  intellectual  giant,  he  cannot  be 
represented  in  the  form  suited  to  a  great  orator  like  Cha- 
tham. It  is  the  results  of  his  work  that  best  admit  of 
delineation  ;  more  especially  the  bearings  of  his  discovery 
of  gravitation.  The  gorgeous  rhetoric  of  Chalmers  proceeds 
as  follows  : — 

"  There  are  perhaps  no  two  sets  of  human  beings  who  com- 
prehend less  the  movements,  and  enter  less  into  the  cares  and 
concerns,  of  each  other,  than  the  wide  and  busy  pubhc  on  the  one 
hand,  and,  on  the  other,  those  men  of  close  and  studious  retire- 
naent,  whom  the  world  never"  hears  of,  save  when,  from  their 
thoughtful  sohtude,  there  issues  forth  some  splendid  discovery,  to 
set  the  world  on  a  gaze  of  admiration.  Then  will  the  brilliancy  of 
a  superior  genius  draw  every  eye  towards  it — and  the  homage  paid 
to  intellectual  superiority  will  place  its  idol  on  a  loftier  eminence 
than  all  wealth  or  than  all  titles  can  bestow — and  the  name  of  the 
successful  pliilosopher  will  circulate,  in  his  own  age,  over  the  whole 
extent  of  civilized  society,  and  be  borne  down  to  posterity  in  the 
characters  of  ever-during  remembrance — and  thus  it  is,  that,  when 
we  look  back  on  the  days  of  iS[e%vton,  we  annex  a  kind  of  mys- 
terious greatness  to  him,  who,  by  the  piire  force  of  his  under- 
standing, rose  to  such  a  gigantic  elevation  above  the  level  of 
ordinary  men — and  tlie  kings  and  warriors  of  other  days  sink  into 
insigniticance  around  him — and  he,  at  this  moment,  stands  forth  to 
the  public  eye,  in  a  prouder  array  of  glory  than  circles  the  memory 
of  all  the  men  of  former  generations — and,  while  all  the  vulgar 
grandeur  of  other  days  is  now  mouldering  in  forgetfulness,  the 
acliievements  of  our  great  astrononur  are  still  fresh  in  the  venera- 
tion of  his  countrj-men,  and  they  cai-ry  him  forward  on  the  stream 
of  time,  with  a  reputation  ever  gathering,  and  the  trimnphs  of  a 
distmetion  that  will  never  die.'' 

This  comparison  with  other  modes  of  greatness,  of  a 
more  palpable  kind,  is  the  best  available  means  of  getting 
over  the  difficulty  of  describing  a  scientific  intellect. 

It  is  the  beneficent  sublime  that  Goldsmith  has  caught 
so  W'cll  in  his  picture  of  the  Preacher,  in  the  '  Deserted 
Village '  :— 

A  man  he  was  to  all  the  country  dear, 

And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year ; 

Eemote  from  towns,  he  ran  his  godlj^  race, 

Nor  e'er  had  changed,  nor  wished  to  change  his  place ; 

Unskilful  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power. 

By  doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour ; 

Far  otiier  aims  his  heart  had  learned  to  prize, 

More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise. 


goldsmith's  peeachek.  97 

His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train ; 

He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved  their  pain.  , 

The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  guest, 

"Whose  beard  descending  swept  his  aged  brta^t ; 

The  ruined  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud, 

Claimed  kindred  there,  and  had  his  claims  allowed ; 

The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay, 

Sat  by  his  fire,  and  talked  the  night  away ; 

Wept  o'er  his  wounds,  or  tales  of  sorrow  done, 

Shouldered  his  crutch,  and  shewed  how  fields  were  won. 

Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  learned  to  glow, 

And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe  ; 

Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan, 

His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began. 

Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 

And  e'en  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side ; 

But,  in  his  duty  prompt  at  every  call. 

He  watched  and  wept,  he  prayed  and  felt  for  all ; 

And,  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 

To  tempt  her  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies. 

He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay. 

Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way. 
Beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  was  laid, 

And  sorrow,  guilt  and  pain,  by  turns  dismayed, 

The  reverend  champion  stood.     At  his  control 

Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul ; 

Comfort  came  down  the  trembling  wretch  to  raise. 

And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise. 
At  church,  with  meek  and  imaffected  grace, 

His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place  ; 

Tnith  from  his  lips  prevailed  with  double  sway ; 

And  fools,  who  came  to  scoff,  remained  to  pray. 

The  service  past,  aroimd  the  pious  man, 

With  ready  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ran  ; 

E'en  children  followed  with  endearing  wile, 

And  plucked  his  gown,  to  share  the  good  man's  smile ; 

His  ready  smile  a  parent's  warmth  expressed, 

Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their  cares  distressed ; 

To  them,  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs  were  given, 

But  aU  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 

As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 

Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm  ; 

Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 

Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head. 

In  this  vivid  picture  nothing  is  introduced  that  would 

mar  the  beneficence  of  the  situation  ;  while  the  function  of 

the  clergyman  naturally  lends  itself  to  the  portraiture  of 

kindly  offices  and  good-will.     The  points  to  be  noted  are 


98  STRENGTH— EXEMPLIFICATION. 

mainly  these  :  First,  the  intense  regard  for  duty,  which  is 
always  of  the  nature  of  the  sublime,  but  which,  when  (as 
here)  it  is  accompanied  with  love  and  z;est,  has  a  particu- 
larly tender  and  attractive  side.  Next,  the  absence  of 
secular  ambition  ('  Passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year') ; 
which,  considering  the  strong  hold  that  the  passion  for 
riches  has  on  men  in  general,  betrays  elevation  of  character 
in  the  matter  of  restraint.  There  is  next  the  sublimity  of 
high-toned  morality ;  as  seen  in  the  preacher's  unbending 
integrity  and  refusal  to  court  favour  by  flattery  and  tempo- 
rizing :  '  Unsldlful  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power.  By 
doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour '.  Next  comes  deep 
and  broad  sympathy  with  men,  extending  both  to  their  joys 
and  to  their  w^oes,  and  manifesting  itself  in  practical  forms 
— such  as  hospitality,  relieving  suffering,  tendering  advice. 
Lastly  comes  the  elevating  and  winning  quality  of  charity  : 
'  Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan,'  '  And  e'en  his 
failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side '.  The  picture  is  also 
brightened  by  two  adventitious  circumstances — viz.,  the 
preacher's  success  in  his  mission,  and  the  high  estimation 
wherein  he  was  held  by  his  people  :  '  At  his  control  Despair 
and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul ' ;  '  A  man  he  was  to  all 
the  country  dear ' ;  '  E'en  children  followed  with  endearing 
wile,  And  plucked  his  gown,  to  share  the  good  man's  smile '. 

NEUTEAL   STEENGTH. 

Neutral  Strength  appeals  more  exclusively  to  onr 
sense  of  what  is  vast  and  majestic,  aided,  it  may  be,  by 
the  mysterious  and  illimitable. 

We  now  encounter  Sublimity  in  its  purest  form,  detached 
alike  from  good  and  from  evil  consequences.  The  objects 
best  suited  to  exemplify  it  are  the  mightiest  aspects  of 
Nature,  terrestrial  and  celestial,  and  the  infinities  of  Space 
and  Time. 

From  its  very  essence,  this  is  the  kind  of  strength  most 
diflicult  to  sustain,'  and  most  liable  to  degenerate  into 
Turgidity.  Deprived  of  the  assistance  of  our  leading  human 
emotions,  it  has  to  rest  upon  a  consummate  handling  of  the 
strength  vocabulary,  together  with  the  associations  of 
majesty,  dignity  and  grandeur. 

When  we  name  the  attributes  of  Majesty,  Dignity, 
Grandeur,  as  not  iumiediately  connected  with  the  funda- 


PUEE  GREATNESS  OF  CHABACTEB.  99 

mental  emotions  so  often  appealed  to,  we  must  add  that, 
in  their  origin  in  the  hmiian  mind,  they  cannot  be  altogether 
detached  from  these  great  emotions.  Majesty  and  Dignity 
are  nothing  without  a  basis  of  Power,  and  Power  supposes 
efficiency  for  good  or  for  evil.  Yet,  by  a  process  of  mental 
growth,  we  attain  to  a  species  of  emotion  of  the  inspiring 
and  elevating  kind,  which  seems  to  throw  a  veil  over  its 
primary  sources,  and  to  constitute  a  pleasure  apart. 

As  regards  the  human  character,  instances  may  be 
furnished  that  have  little  or  no  direct  or  obvious  suggestion 
of  either  maleficent  or  beneficent  qualities,  but  such  neu- 
trality is  rarely  maintained  through  a  composition  of  any 
length. 

In  extolling  the  greatness  of  human  character,  the  direct 
production  of  good  and  evil  is  often  kept  out  of  view  for  a 
time,  and  the  stress  laid  upon  the  element  of  neutral 
strength,  as  grandeur  or  magnificence  ;  although,  in  the 
fi.rst  instance,  efficiency  for  practical  ends  is  what  raises  a 
man  upon  a  pedestal  of  imposing  majesty. 

The  splendid  eulogy  of  Milton  by  Wordsworth  is  a 
specimen  of  greatness  of  character,  depicted  apart  from  the 
consideration  of  Milton's  work  : — 

Thy  soul  was  like  a  star,  and  dwelt  apart : 

Thou  hadst  a  voice  whose  sound  was  like  the  sea : 

Pure  as  the  naked  heavens,  majestic,  free. 

So  didst  thou  travel  on  life's  common  way, 

In  cheerful  godliness  ;  and  yet  thy  heart 

The  lowliest  duties  on  herself  did  lay. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  imagery  invoked  for  tliis  lofty 
description.  The  poet's  instinct  led  him  to  the  celestial 
sphere,  as  the  type  of  intrinsic  grandeur  without  reference 
to  the  emotions  of  love  or  hate.  In  the  end,  he  recurs  to 
the  virtues  of  ordinary  life,  and  draws  a  picture  of  moral 
greatness  wath  the  inevitable  suggestion  of  goodness  to 
fellow  beings. 

Compare  the  same  poet's  lines  on  Chatterton  : — 

I  thought  of  Chatterton,  the  marvellous  boy, 
The  sleepless  soul  that  perished  in  his  pride. 

The  operative  circumstances  here  are,  first,  the  epithet 
'  marvellous,'  indicating  superiority  and  distinction  without 
saying  how,  where,  or  in  what  respect ;  next,  the  energy 
denoted  by  '  sleepless ' ;  then  the  '  pride,'  a  fine  human 
quality  when  untarnished  by  vile  accompaniments.      The 


100  STBENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION,  v 

poet,  however,  sees  fit  to  awaken  our  tender  sentiment  by 
the  tragic  pathos  of  the  '  perished ' ;  showing  how  rare  it  is 
to  dispense  with  our  greatest  fountains  of  emotion.  The  effect 
of  the  passage  is  thus  increased,  although  at  the  expense  of 
its  purity  as  an  example  under  our  present  head.  Still  the 
compression  of  four  such  epithets,  in  two  lines,  with  nothing 
to  impair  the  harmony,  has  been  universally  accounted  one 
of  the  choice  products  of  the  poet's  genius. 
Again,  with  reference  to  Burns  : — 

Of  him  who  walked  in  glory,  and  in  joy, 
Following  his  plough,  along  the  mountain  side. 

We  are  touched  at  once  by  the  lofty  bearing  and  the 
humble  vocation  of  the  subject,  everything  else  being  in  the 
background. 

Hamlet's  picture  of  his  father  is  made  up  of  Shake- 
spearian strokes  of  invention,  which  at  first  appeal  to  our 
acquired  emotion  of  grandeur,  but  at  last  kindle  the  purely 
malignant  flame,  by  the  disparaging  comparison  with  his 
mmderer. 

It  is  to  Nature  that  we  must  turn  for  the  chief  exempli- 
fication of  this  form  of  Sublimity.  Greatness  in  Force,  in 
Space  and  in  Time,  rendered  in  such  a  way  as  to  combine 
an  intelligible  picture,  with  a  vista  of  the  unexpressed, 
will  impart  the  elevation  of  Strength.  Each  of  these  great 
elements  can  be  handled  for  the  purpose ;  and  each  in  turn 
can  come  to  the  aid  of  the  others. 

Force  is  seldom  separated  from  effects  for  good  or  evil ; 
Space  and  Time  are  much  more  of  the  natm'e  of  abstractions, 
while  also  partaking  most  of  the  Infinite. 

The  Celestial  Universe  is  by  pre-eminence  the  region  of 
neutral  might.  Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  revel  in 
the  impenetrable  depths  of  the  starry  spaces.  The  genius 
of  Dante  was  impelled  to  it  in  the  Paradiso,  but  his  Ptole- 
maic Astronomy  was  not  well  suited  to  the  attempt.  More- 
over, it  is  not  his  way  to  expatiate  on  Nature's  grandeurs, 
except  with  immediate  reference  to  the  interests  of 
personality. 

The  successive  locations  of  the  Blessed  in  Dante's  Para- 
dise begin  at  the  Moon,  and  proceed  through  the  Planets  in 
order  to  Saturn.  The  Eighth  Heaven  is  the  Fixed  Stars. 
Here  we  have  such  glimpses  as  these  :  — 


CELSSTIAL  GEANDEUKS.  101 

Not  for  so  short  a  moment  could'st  thou  bear 
Thy  finger  in  the  fire  as  that  in  which 
I  saw  the  sign  next  Taurus,  and  was  there. 

0  glorious  stars,  O  light  supremely  rich 

In  every  %irtue  wliich  I  recognise 
As  source  of  all  my  powers, 

Look  down  once  more,  and  see  the  world  hoTsr  wide 

Beneath  thy  feet  it  lieth,  far  outspread  ; 
So  that  my  heart,  with  joy  beatified, 

May  join  those  hosts  with  triumph  now  elate, 

Tliat  here  in  this  ethereal  sphere  abide. 
Then  I  retraced  my  way  through  small  and  great 

Of  those  seven  splieres,  and  then  this  globe  did  seem 

Such  that  I  smiled  to  see  its  low  estate  ; 

1  saw  the  daughter  of  Latona  there 

All  glowing  bright,  without  that  shadowy  veil, 

Which  once  I  dreamed  was  caused  by  dense  and  rare  '■, 
I  saw,  with  open  glance  that  did  not  fail, 

The  glories,  Hyperion,  of  thy  son, 

And  Maia  and  Dione  how  they  sail 
Aromid  and  near  him,  and  Jove's  temperate  zone 

'Twixt  sire  and  son,  and  then  to  me  were  clear 

Their  varying  phases  as  they  circle  on. 

Piumptre's  Transhdlon. 

The  subject  is  frequently  taken  up  in  short  allusions, 
but  has  as  yet  scarcely  received  an  adequate  treatment 
according  to  the  discoveries  of  Modern  Astronomy,  which, 
instead  of  curbing  imagination,  as  science  often  does,  pro- 
vides it  with  new  outlets. 

The  cosmogony  of  Milton  is  highly  artificial ;  his 
management  of  the  great  sidereal  expanse  is  combined  with 
Satan's  movements,  and,  only  in  touches,  gives  the  sublime 
of  vastness.  (See  Professor  Masson's  delineation  of  the 
Miltonic  Cosmogony,  in  the  Dissertations  to  Paradise  Lost.) 

The  following  lines  from  Pope  give  a  nearly  pure  example 
of  the  celestial  Sublime  : — 

He  who  through  vast  immensity  can  pierce, 
See  worlds  on  worlds  compose  one  universe, 
Observe  how  system  into  system  runs. 
What  other  planets  circle  other  suns. 
What  varied  being  peoples  every  star, 
May  tell  why  Heaven  has  made  us  as  we  are. 

The  want  here  is  a  comprehensive  view  to  include  the 
vast  and  varied  contents  of  the  starry  depths.  The  passage 
indicates  the  points  of  interest  that  are  usually  drawn  upon 
in  such  flights ;  the  existence  of  human  inhabitants  in 
the  remote  systems,  and  the  illustration  of  creative  might. 


102  STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Goethe  touches  the  theme  in  the  Prologue  to  Faust,  but 
makes  au  abrupt  transition  to  the  earthly  forces,  which  he 
depicts  with  strokes  of  grandeur.  He  feels  the  superior 
efficacy  of  movement,  and  selects  his  points  accordingly  : — 

Still  quiring  as  in  ancient  time 
With  brother  spheres  rn  rival  song. 

The  Sun  with  thunder-march  sublime 
iRIoves  his  predestined  course  along. 

The  Sublimity  of  Time  is  a  more  frequent  subject  of 
treatment  both  in  poetry  and  in  elevated  prose.  It  does 
not  demand  the  same  stretch  of  language  as  the  Space 
universe  :  although  illimitable  in  two  directions,  it  admits 
of  being  narrowed  in  the  breadth  of  the  stream.  Another 
reason  for  its  choice  is  illustrative  of  the  view  taken  of 
neutral  strength  ;  it  readily  admits  an  appeal  to  our  emo- 
tions in  the  form  of  pathos  if  not  also  destructive  malignity. 

The  first  example  is  a  prose  extract  from  Chalmers  : — 

"  (1)  One  might  figure  a  futurity  that  never  ceases  to  flow,  and  which 
has  no  termination  ;  but  who  can  climb  his  ascending  way  among  the 
obscurities  of  that  infinite  which  is  behind  him  ?  (2)  Who  can  travel 
in  thought  along  the  track  of  generations  gone  by,  till  he  has  overtaken 
the  eternity  which  lies  in  that  direction  ?  (3)  Who  can  look  across  the 
millions  of  ages  which  have  elapsed,  and  from  an  ulterior  post  of 
observation  look  again  to  another  and  another  succession  of  centuries  ; 
and  at  each  further  extremity  in  this  series  of  retrospects,  stretch  back- 
ward his  regards  on  an  antiquity  as  remote  and  indefinite  as  ever  ?  (4) 
Could  we,  by  any  number  of  successive  strides  over  these  mighty 
intervals,  at  length  reach  the  fountain-head  of  duration,  our  spirits 
might  be  at  rest.  (5)  But  to  thmk  of  duration  as  having  no  fountain- 
head  ;  to  think  of  time  with  no  beginning ;  to  uplift  the  imagination 
along  the  heights  of  an  antiquity  which  hath  positively  no  summit  ;  to 
soar  these  upward  steeps  till  dizzied  by  the  altitude  we  can  keep  no 
longer  on  the  wing  :  for  the  mmd  to  make  these  repeated  flights  from 
one  pinnacle  to  another,  and  instead  of  scaling  the  mysterious  eleva- 
tion, to  lie  baffled  at  its  foot,  or  lose  itself  among  the  far,  the  long 
withdrawing  recesses  of  that  primeval  distance,  which  at  length  merges 
away  into  a  fathomless  unknown ;  this  is  an  exercise  utterly  discom- 
fiting to  the  puny  faculties  of  man." 

This  fine  passage  works  up  the  sublimity  of  duration,  through 
great  resources  of  language  and  figiu'e,  assisted  by  the  skilful  use 
of  intermediate  gradations  leading  to  a  climax.  The  special 
quality  of  strengtli  appealed  to  is  a  vastness  that  simply  over- 
powers us,  and  illustrates  our  insignificance  and  nothingness, 
without  doing  us  any  otlier  harm.  For  the  sake  of  being  lifted  to 
the  conception  of  such  immense  power,  we  offer  ourselves  up  as 
exemplary  victims. 

(1)  The  first  sentence  draws  a  questionable  contrast  between  an 


CHALMEES    ON    ETERNITY.  1C3 

endless  future  and  an  infinite  past ;  making  it  appear,  without 
obvious  justification,  that  the  future  is,  in  conception,  the  least 
arduous  of  the  two.  This  contrast  adds  nothing  to  the  effect  of 
the  passage  ;  the  power  commences  with  the  second  member  of 
the  sentence — '  Who  can  climb  his  ascending  way  among  the 
obscurities  of  that  infinite  which  is  behind  him  ?  '  The  author  is 
naturally  led  to  adopt  the  figure  of  Interrogation,  and  sustains  it 
through  the  next  two  sentences. 

(2)  This  sentence  is  merely  varying  the  statement  of  the 
position,  by  help  of  the  author's  opulent  vocabulary.  '  Who  can 
travel  in  thought  along  the  track  of  generations  gone  by,  till  he 
has  overtaken  the  eternity  which  lies  in  that  direction  ?  '  The 
language  here  is  cumbrous,  notwithstanding  its  power.  A  little 
variation  might  be  tried.  '  Who  can  carry  his  thoughts  along  the 
inmmierable  generations  gone  by,  and  overtake  the  eternal  com- 
mencement of  them  all  ?  ' 

(3)  '  Who  can  look  across  the  millions  of  ages  which  have 
elapsed,  and  from  an  ulterior  post  of  observation  look  again  to 
another  and  another  succession  of  centuries  ;  and,  at  each  further 
extremity  in  the  series  of  retrospects,  stretch  backward  his  regards 
on  an  antiquity  as  remote  and  indefinite  as  ever  ?  '  The  force  of 
the  language  is  fully  sustained,  and  the  operation  of  grading  well 
carried  out. 

(4)  '  Could  we,  by  any  nmnber  of  successive  strides  over  these 
mighty  intervals,  at  length  reach  the  fountain-head  of  duration, 
our  spirits  might  be  at  rest.'  The  last  clause  is  not  the  best  that 
we  could  desire,  bi;t  the  form  of  the  sentence,  in  summing  up,  as 
it  were,  the  result  of  the  previous  one,  is  highly  effective. 

(5)  Now  comes  the  climax,  which  is  grandly  sustained.  To 
reach  the  higliest  pitch  of  the  language  of  strength,  strong  negatives 
are  essential. 

The  author  has  done  everything  that  could  be  required  of  him 
in  his  bold  undertaking.  He  has  provided  a  series  of  the  most 
powerful  sti'okes  of  language,  each  rismg  perceptibly  above  the 
one  previous,  initil  the  strain  could  be  carried  no  higher.  The 
real  climax  is  reached  at  '  fathomless  luiknown  '.  The  concluding 
clause  is  a  transition  that  might  easily  have  been  a  bathos ;  but  is 
saved  by  the  intensity  of  the  language. 

It  is  noticeable  that  the  author  employs  figiires  derived  from 
space  relations,  much  more  than  the  proper  vocabulary  of  duration. 

Hardly  any  better  instance  can  be  given  of  the  pure  or  neutral 
Bublime.  It  shows  how  vast  must  be  the  scale  of  the  quality  to 
make  an  impression  comparable  to  the  sublimity  of  maleficent  or 
beneficent  strength. 

Examples  of  the  theme  are  frequent  with  the  poets.  The 
concluding  lines  of  the  '  Pleasures  of  Hope  '  need  only  be 
referred  to.  Its  examination  shows  at  a  glance  that  other 
emotions  besides  duration  in  its  vastness  are  appealed  to. 


lOi  STRENGTH — EXEMrLIFICATION. 

The  following  is  from  Shelley  : — 

Yet  pause,  and  plunge 
Into  Eternity,  where  recorded  time. 
Even  all  that  we  imagine,  age  on  age, 
Seems  but  a  point,  and  the  reluctant  mind 
Flags  wearily  in  its  unending  flight. 
Till  it  sink  dizzy,  blind,  lost,  shelterless. 

This  might  be  taken  as  a  poetical  condensation  of  the 
passage  from  Chalmers. 

Historical  time,  past  and  future,  is  thus  pictured  in 
'  Locksley  Hall ' : — 

When  the  centuries  behind  me  like  a  fruitful  land  reposed ; 
When  I  clung  to  all  the  present  for  the  promise  that  it  closed ; 

When  I  dipt  into  the  future  far  as  human  eye  could  see  ; 

Saw  the  Vision  of  the  world,  and  all  the  wonder  that  would  be. 

This  limitation  to  historical  time  makes  a  case  of  personal 
human  interest ;  as  is  usual  with  more  limited  surveys  of 
the  past  and  the  future. 

The  sublime  of  terrestrial  amplitudes,  masses  and 
moving  powers,  with  more  or  less  ^^f  personifying  aid,  is 
abundant  in  poetry.  It  is  one  of  the  products  of  the 
growing  sensibility  to  Nature  that  recent  ages  can  boast 
of.  See,  for  example,  the  pictures  of  Mont  Blanc,  by 
Coleridge,  by  Shelley,  and  by  Byron,  where  the  sublime  of 
mass  is  as  nearly  pure  as  may  be. 

Still  more  efficacious  is  the  momentum  of  masses  in 
motion,  as  seen  in  rivers,  floods,  ocean  waves  and  tides, 
volcanic  outbursts,  earthquakes,  and  the  great  appliances  of 
human  art.     Thus  : — 

Along  these  lonely  regions,  where  retir'd 
From  little  scenes  of  art,  great  Nature  dwells 
In  awful  solitude,  and  nought  is  seen 
But  the  wild  herds  that  own  no  master's  stall, 
Prodigious  rivers  roll  their  fattening  seas. 

Any  further  attempt  to  exemplify  Neutral  Strength  in 
typical  purity  is  needless ;  the  tendency  of  manifested 
power  to  run  into  the  channels  of  strongest  personal  emotion 
is  sufliciently  apparent.  Accordingly,  it  is  reserved  for  a 
more  promiscuous  selection  of  passages  to  illustrate  the 
Subhme  in  all  its  multiplicity  of  aspects  and  constituents. 


shakespeaee's  stoem  desceiptions.  105 

PROMISCUOUS  PASSAGES. 
Among  the  loftiest  flights  of  Shakespeare's  subhmity,  we  may 
place  a  well  known  passage  in  '  Lear '.  It  illustrates  the  poetry  of 
destructive  energy,  and  makes  us  feel  how  much  this  exceeds  in 
effect  the  finest  handling  of  either  beneficent  or  neutral  strength. 
It  is  the  parallel  to  the  Macbeth  challenge  to  the  witches,  but 
still  more  densely  compacted. 

Blow,  winds,  and  crack  your  cheeks  !  rage  !  blow  I 

You  cataracts,  and  hurricanoes,  spout 

Till  you  have  drench'd  our  steeples,  drown'd  the  cocks  1 

You  sulphurous  and  thought-executing  fires, 

Vaimt-couriers  of  oak-cleaving  thunderbolts, 

Singe  my  white  head  !   And  thou,  all-shaking  thimder, 

Strike  flat  the  thick  rotundity  o'  the  world  ! 

Crack  nature's  moulds,  all  germens  spill  at  once, 

That  make  ingrateful  man. 

L.  1.  The  phrase  '  crack  your  cheeks  '  is  wanting  in  dignity, 
unless  we  suppose  the  speaker  in  a  contemptuous  and  defiant 
mood.  It  has  a  redeeming  point  in  the  familiar  figure  of  a  cherub 
blowing  hard  with  distended  cheeks. 

L.  2.  The  conjunction  '  cataracts  '  and  '  hurricanoes  '  is  meant 
to  prepare  for  the  drenching  in  the  next  hne  ;  but  hardly  expresses 
it.  The  precedence  should  be  given  to  '  hurricane,'  whose  fore- 
most effect  is  wind,  with  the  incidental  accompaniment  of  furious 
rains,  to  which  the  cataract  would  then  pomt. 

L.  3.  '  Till  you  have  drenched  our  steeples,  dro^vned  the 
cocks,'  is  powerful,  but  extravagant. 

L.  4-6.  The  lightning  is  embodied  in  the  '  sulphm-ous  and 
thought-executing  fires ' ;  neither  epithet  is  specially  applicable. 
'  Vaunt-couriers  of  oak-cleaving  thunderbolts  '  is  a  grand  conjunc- 
tion of  epithets  for  thunder ;  '  oak-cleaving '  is  more  conceivable 
than  'thought-executing'.  'Singe  my  white  head'  is  barely  re- 
deemed from  feebleness  by  the  intensity  of  the  speaker's  passion. 

L.  7  contains  one  of  Shakespeare's  grander  strokes  of  con- 
densed energy.  He  takes  up  the  globe  in  a  breath,  and  proposes 
to  strike  it  flat ;  although  the  greatest  exaggeration  of  the  might 
of  thunder  is  vinequal  to  the  attempt. 

L.  8  repeats  the  misurpassable  figure  in  the  Macbeth  passage, 
the  destruction  of  our  race,  and  of  all  living  beings,  at  one  stroke. 
It  would  be  the  revocation  of  the  earth  to  its  uiorganic  state,  prior 
to  the  supposed  evolution  of  life. 

The  storm  in  '  Julius  CaBsar '  attains  an  equal,  if  not  a  greater, 
pitch  of  sublimity. 

Are  not  you  moved,  when  all  the  sway  of  earth 
Shakes  like  a  thing  imfirm  ?     0  Cicero, 
I  have  seen  tempests,  when  the  scolding  winds 
Have  rived  the  knotty  oaks,  and  I  have  seen 
6 


106  BTRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  ambitious  ocean  swell  and  rage  and  foam, 
To  be  exalted  -with  the  threatening  clouds ; 
But  never  till  to-night,  never  till  now, 
Did  1  go  through  a  tempest  dropping  fire. 
Either  there  is  a  civil  strife  in  heaven, 
Or  else  the  world,  too  saucy  with  the  gods, 
Incenses  them  to  send  destruction. 

The  aid  of  a  comparison  is  first  invoked,  by  quoting  what 
seems  the  very  acme  of  stormy  rage.  '  I  have  seen  tempests — the 
threat'ning  clouds.'  Both  wind  and  ocean  are  depicted  by  images 
and  incidents  of  tremendous  energy,  without  a  break  or  a  fall. 
The  exaltation  of  the  sea  to  the  tlnreatening  clouds  is  hyperbolical, 
but  not  extravagant. 

Next  comes  the  application — 

But  never  till  to-night,  never  till  now, 
Did  I  go  tkrough  a  tempest  dropping  fire. 
This  is  the  grandest  image  of  the  whole ;  it  has  the  merit  of  pic- 
tui'esqueness  in  a  still  higher  degree  than  the  previous  description ; 
wliile  the  idea  of  '  dropping  fire  '  is  suggestive  of  destructive  might 
at  the  utmost  pitch. 

The  climax  has  now  been  reached,  and  the  three  concluding 
lines  are  a  falling  away.  The  reference  to  the  gods  might  be  such 
as  to  sustain  the  effect,  but  for  that  end  a  more  concentrated  and 
intense  expression  was  wanted.  The  explanation  offered  is  at  best 
prosaic.  The  introduction  of  the  alternatives  makes  it  too  much 
a  matter  of  intellectual  balancmg,  and  is  incompatible  with  high 
passions.  The  last  line  contains  the  effective  thought,  and  could 
have  been  embodied  so  as  to  sustain  the  energy  at  the  requisite 
height. 

Compare  Byron's  Storm  in  the  Alps : — 

Far  along, 
From  peak  to  peak,  the  rattling  crags  among, 
Leaps  the  Uve  thunder !     Not  from  one  lone  cloud, 
But  every  mountain  now  hath  found  a  tongue, 
And  Jura  answers,  through  her  misty  shroud. 
Back  to  the  joyous  Alps,  who  call  to  her  aloud  ! 
In  this  description,  and  in  what  follows,  the  poet  rejoices  in  the 
mere   display   of   power,   apart  altogether   from  its   effects.      He 
achieves  a  great  success  in  his  choice  of  language,  both  for  vast- 
ness  of  space  and  for  intensity  of  force.     It  is  impossible,  never- 
theless, to  withhold  the  emotional  consequences  from  the  simple 
manifestation  of  power.     Thus — 

— let  me  be 
A  sharer  in  thy  fierce  and  far  delight, 
A  portion  of  the  tempest  and  of  thee  t 
Ilere  we  have  a  frank  avowal  of  the  source  of  our  liking  for  the 
powers  of  Nature;  we  become  sharers  in  the  energy  whose  effects 
we  witness. 


Shelley's  peometheus.  107 

The  Nature  symbolism  comes  out  most  fully  in  this  stanza:— 

Sky,  moimtains,  river,  winds,  lake,  lightnings  !  ye  I 
With  night,  and  clouds,  and  thunder,  and  a  soul 
To  make  these  felt  and  feeling,  well  may  be 
Things  that  have  made  me  watchful ;  the  far  roll 
Of  your  departing  voices,  is  the  knoll 
Of  what  in  me  is  sleepless, — if  I  rest. 
But  where  of  ye,  oh  tempests  !  is  tlie  goal  ? 
Are  ye  like  those  within  the  human  breast  ? 
Or  do  ye  find,  at  length,  like  eagles,  some  high  nest  ? 

A  more  complete  identification  of  self  with  Nature's  forces  could 
hardly  be  conceived. 

The  quarrel  of  Jiipiter  and  Prometheus  is  one  of  the  renowned 
situations  of  classical  mythology  and  poetry.  The  sublime  of 
heroic  defiance  of  oppression,  backed  by  imlimited  endurance,  is 
exemplified  in  the  handling  of  the  myth.  To  its,  it  is  at  every 
point  too  gigantic  and  extravagant  in  its  horrors  to  be  an  agreeable 
tale.  We  like  to  hear  of  suffering,  but  not  on  the  scale  of  Prome- 
theus. Such  a  degree  of  coarse,  physical  torture  is  beyond  the 
possibility  of  redemption.  The  conception  partakes  of  savagei'y  ; 
while  the  continuance  is  exaggerated  beyond  our  power  to  follow 
it.  One  thousand  years,  one  hundred  years,  a  single  year,  would 
be  as  telling  as  three  thousand. 

The  fiction  has,  nevertheless,  a  poetic  value.  It  stretches  a 
poet's  invention  to  the  utmost  to  cope  with  its  extravagance :  and 
the  result  may  be  a  series  of  splendid  passages,  welcome  on  their 
own  account,  and  capable  of  becoming  hyperbolical  illustrations  of 
actual  incidents  in  human  life.  Such  are  the  Shakespearian  bursts 
in  'Macbeth,'  'Hamlet,'  and  'Lear'.  Whether  Shelley,  in  'Pro- 
metheus Unbound,'  be  eqiial  to  the  occasion,  is  a  matter  for  critical 
inquiry.     The  opening  passage  is  as  follows  : — 

Monarch  of  gods  and  daemons,  and  all  spirits — 
But  One — who  throng  those  bright  and  rolling  worlds 
Which  Thou  and  I  alone  of  living  things 
Behold  with  sleepless  eyes !  regard  this  earth 
Made  multitudinous  with  thy  slaves,  whom  thou 
Kequitest  for  knee  worship,  prayer,  and  praise, 
And  toU,  and  hecatombs  of  broken  hearts. 
With  fear  and  self -contempt  and  barren  hope : 

The  burden  of  this  strain  is  severe  denunciation  of  Jupiter's 
tyranny,  and  its  contemptible  results  in  the  wholesale  creation  of 
slaves  and  hypocrites  ;  a  picture  of  the  typical  despot. 

Whilst  me,  who  am  thy  foe,  eyeless  in  hate 
Hast  thou  made  reign  and  triumph,  to  thy  scom, 
O'er  mine  own  misery  and  thy  vain  revenge. 


103  STRENGTH — EXEMrLIFICATION. 

Three  thousand  yeai's  of  sleep-unsheltered  hours, 
And  moments  aye  divided  by  keen  pangs 
Till  they  seemed  years,  torture  and  solitude, 
Scorn  and  despair — these  are  mine  empire  : — 
Here  we  have  the  lofty  boast  of  Prometheus  that  he  too  had  been 
made  a  monarch  and  a  victor ;  had  triumphed  over  three  thousand 
years  of  agony.     Moral  heroism  has  attained  god-like  dimensions. 

More  glorious  far  than  that  which  thou  surveyest 
From  thine  unenvied  throne,  O  mighty  God  I — 
Almighty,  had  I  deigned  to  share  the  shame 
Of  thine  ill  tyranny,  and  hung  not  here 
Nailed  to  this  wall  of  eagle-baffling  mountain, 
Black,  wintry,  dead,  unmeasured  ;  without  herb, 
Insect,  or  beast,  or  shape  or  sound  of  life. 
Ah,  me  !  alas  !  pain,  pain,  ever,  for  ever. 

This  is  mere  iteration,  not  to  say  needless  repetition,  and  scarcely 
adds  to  the  force  of  what  went  before.  A  poet  may  go  back  vipon 
himself  in  order  to  strike  out  new  effects.  Here  we  have  merely 
an  expansion  of  the  dignity  of  triumphing  over  sufTering,  and  a 
more  realistic  detail  of  the  nature  of  tlie  punishment. 

While  the  language  is  choice  and  well-compacted,  the  poet 
has  not  realised  a  grand  and  original  burst  of  poetry,  whether  in 
conception,  in  figure,  or  in  the  movement  of  the  verse. 

Campbell's  prose  description  of  the  launch  of  a  ship  of  war  is 
illustrative  of  the  sublime  among  the  artificial  constructions  of  men. 

"  When  Shakespeare  groups  into  one  view  the  most  sublime 
objects  of  the  tmiverse,  he  fixes  on  the  cloud-capt  towers,  the 
gorgeous  palaces,  the  solemn  temples.  Those  who  have  ever 
witnessed  the  spectacle  of  the  launching  of  a  ship  of  the  line,  will 
perhaps  forgive  me  for  adding  this  to  the  examples  of  the  sublime 
objects  of  artificial  life.  Of  that  spectacle  I  can  never  forget  the 
impression,  and  of  having  witnessed  it  reflected  from  the  faces  of 
ten  thousand  spectators.  They  seem  yet  before  me — I  sympathize 
with  their  deep  and  silent  expectation,  and  with  their  final  burst 
of  enthusiasm." 

It  is  an  effective  heightening  of  a  sublime  spectacle  thus  to 
record  the  impression  produced  upon  the  mind  of  a  spectator,  and 
still  better  upon  a  vast  body  of  spectators.  Its  position  would 
be  improved,  however,  by  being  made  to  follow  the  description  of 
the  ol)ject.  We  cannot  be  too  soon  put  in  possession  of  the  con- 
crete image  that  evei-y thing  is  to  turn  upon. 

"  When  the  vast  bulwark  sprung  from  her  cradle,  the  calm 
water,  on  which  she  swung  majestically  romid,  gave  the  imagina- 
tion a  contrast  of  the  stormy  element  on  which  she  was  soon  to 
ride." 

This  contains  the  description  of  the  object  in  terms  that  imply 
vastness  and  force  of  the  neutral  kind.     The  closing  cii'cumstance 


^  THE  OCEAN.  109 

is  not  so  happy.  The  calm  water  would  not  of  itself  suggest  the 
stoiuny  element ;  our  own  knowledge  supplies  it,  when  we  put  our 
thoughts  on  the  stretch  for  the  pm-pose.  The  concluding  sentence 
pursues  the  theme. 

"  All  the  days  of  battle  and  the  nights  of  danger  which  she 
had  to  encomiter,  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  which  she  had  to  visit, 
and  all  that  she  had  to  do  and  to  suffer  for  her  country,  rose  in 
awful  presentiment  before  the  mind  ;  and  when  the  heart  gave  her 
a  benediction,  it  was  like  one  pronounced  upon  a  living  being." 

It  is  now  seen  how  little  of  the  sublimity  is  neutral,  and  how 
much  is  dependent  on  the  invoking  of  emotion,  avowedly  heroic 
and  beneficent,  but  tacitly  also  destructive. 

The  Ocean  is  a  testing  case  of  the  handling  of  Strength  raised 
to  the  pitch  of  Si^blimity.  It  offers  a  seemingly  neutral  power, 
and  is  capable  of  being  treated  as  such.  When,  however,  we  refer 
to  examples,  we  discover  that  emotional  interest,  apart  fi'om  mere 
strength,  is  usually  superadded. 

To  an  unbiassed  mind,  the  sea  is  not  very  elevating  or  calcu- 
lated to  excite  intense  emotion.  There  are  exceptional  individuals 
formed  to  take  delight  in  the  sea-faring  life  ;  but  to  the  mass  of 
men,  its  interest  is  factitious  and  only  made  up  by  the  poetic  art. 

Our  nature  poets  have  greatly  enhanced  the  charm  of  land 
scenery,  by  felicity  of  handling ;  and  so  with  the  greatly  inferior 
attractions  of  the  sea. 

For  a  combination  of  simple  yet  effective  phraseology,  set  in  a 
melodious  line,  there  is  nothing  to  surpass  Spenser's — 

World  of  waters  wide  and  deep. 
The  poet  is  content  with  superinducing  two  space  epithets  on  the 
figiu-e  obtained  from  the  world. 

Milton's  adaptation — 

Eismg  world  of  waters  dark  and  deep — 
discards  the  spatial  expanse  for  the  term  of   awe  and  mystery, 
'dark'. 

Byron's  passage,  at  the  close  of  '  Childe  Harold,'  is  an  almost 
unbroken  appeal  to  the  interest  of  pure  malignity.  The  grandeur 
of  the  phraseology  has  a  redeeming  effect,  but  ought  not  reconcile 
us  to  the  diabolical  sentiment  of  stanza  180.  Malignant  strength 
\eigns  in  a  more  subdued  form  in  181.  In  the  succeeding  stanza, 
the  same  terrific  superiority  to  the  greatest  of  human  things,  the 
empires  of  the  past,  is  illustrated.  In  183,  it  is  'a  glorious  mirror, 
where  the  Almighty's  form  glasses  itself  in  tempests ' — still  the 
destructive  side.  For  a  moment  he  qualifies  this  with  the  more 
neutral  sublimities  of  boundless  expansion  and  eternal  duration. 
It  is  also  the  '  tlirone  of  the  Invisible ' — another  piece  of  sym- 
bolism— without  express  mention  of  destructive  wrath.  But  the 
malignant  tone  is  prominent  in  the  closing  Line — 

Thou  goest  forth,  dread,  fathomless,  alone ! 


110  STEENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Stanza  184  introduces  his  own  personality,  with  touches  of 
affectionate   interest — 

And  I  have  loved  thee,  Ocean. 
He  goes  on  to  say — 

For  I  was  as  it  were  a  child  of  thee, 
And  trusted  to  thy  bUlows  far  and  near, 
And  laid  my  hand  upon  thy  mane. 

There  is  here  a  sort  of  redeeming  kindly  feeling  that  softens  the 
harshness  of  the  general  strain,  yet  not  so  as  to  do  away  with  the 
exclusiveness  of  the  malignant  vem  throughout. 

"We  now  turn  to  the  well-knowTi  apostrophe  of  Barry  Cornwall 
(B.  W.  Procter),  where  the  interest  of  malignant  power  is  still 
apparent,  although  more  veiled  ;  the  element  of  strength  being 
more  or  less  neutral. 

0  thou  vast  ocean !  ever-sounding  sea  1 

Thou  symbol  of  a  drear  immensity  ! 

The  epithet  'vast'  is  of  course  appropriate,  as  belonging  to 
the  vocabulary  of  strength  in  expansion  of  space.  '  Ever-sounding' 
is  an  aid  to  the  conception  of  power.  The  '  drear  immensity  '  en- 
deavours to  augment  the  strength  by  an  admixtm-e  of  di'ead,  a 
questionable  and  precarious  expedient. 

Thou  thing  that  windest  round  the  solid  world 
Like  a  hiige  anunal,  which,  downward  hurled 
From  the  black  clouds,  lies  weltering  and  alone, 
Lashing  and  writhing  tiU  its  strength  be  gone. 
This  is  more  a  simile  of  harmony  and  surprise  than  an  exalting 
comparison.     The  sea  looked  at  without  any  poetical  assistance  is 
quite  as  impressive  as  such  a  simile  can  make  it. 

Thy  voice  is  like  the  thunder,  and  thy  sleep 
Is  as  a  giant's  slumber,  loud  and  deep. 

Again  an  allusion  to  the  sound,  which  miglit  have  been  combined 
with  the  former.  Whether  the  hackneyed  use  of  the  thimder 
exalts  the  roar  of  the  ocean  in  a  storm  is  somewhat  doubtful;  stiU 
more  so  is  the  comparison  to  the  most  powerful  giant  that  fable 
ever  stamped  on  our  imagination — a  pictiure  wanting  alike  in  re- 
semblance and  in  adequacy. 

Thou  speakest  in  the  east  and  in  the  west 
At  once,  and  on  thy  heavily-laden  breast 
Fleets  come  and  go,  and  shapes  that  have  no  life 
Or  motion,  yet  are  moved  and  meet  in  strife. 
The  first  circumstance  is  intended  to  illustrate  the  activity  as  weU 
as  the  expanse  of  the  ocean,  but  is  noways  rem;u-kable   for  its 
effectiveness.     The  next  is  something  j^icturesque  and  suggestive 
of  power :  the  sustaining  of  fleets,  one  of  our  most  energetic  agen- 
cies  for  destruction.     The  'shapes  that  have  no  life  or  motion, 


BAEBT   COEN wall's   TREATMENT.  Ill 

and  yet  meet  in  strife,'  may  not  be  very  intelli.E^ible,  but  the  fact 
of  '  strife  '  always  comes  home  to  our  combativeness. 

The  earth  hath  nought  of  this ;  nor  chance  nor  change 
Ruffles  its  surface,  and  no  spirits  dare 
Give  answer  to  the  tempest-wakened  air ; 
But  o'er  its  wastes  the  weakly  tenants  range 
At  will,  and  wound  its  bosom  as  they  go. 

The  earth's  want  of  mobility  of  surface  is  here  quoted  as  an  un- 
favoiu-able  contrast  to  the  sea.  The  contrast  may  be  easily  over- 
done, seeing  the  many  compensating  advantages  of  the  solid  land. 
The  poet  goes  on : — 

Ever  the  same,  it  hath  no  ebb,  no  flow ; — 
But  in  their  stated  round  the  seasons  come, 
And  pass  like  visions  to  their  wonted  home, 
And  come  again  and  vanish  ;  the  yoimg  spring 
Looks  ever  bright  with  leaves  and  blossoming  ; 
And  winter  always  winds  his  sullen  horn, 
Yv^hen  the  wild  autimm  with  a  look  forlorn 
Dies  in  his  stormy  manhood ;  and  the  skies 
Weep,  and  flowers  sicken,  when  the  smnmer  flies. 

This  depreciatory  comment  on  terrestrial  things  has  a  poetic  valu  e 
in  itself,  but  hardly  succeeds  in  advancing  the  ocean  in  our  regards ; 
the  two  elements  are  so  distinct  in  their  whole  nature,  that  we 
cannot  extol  one  at  the  expense  of  the  other. 

There  is  more  force  in  the  concluding  lines  : — 

Oh  !  wonderful  thou  art,  great  element ; 
And  fearful  in  thy  spleeny  himiours  bent, 
And  lovely  in  repose. 

The  combination  of  wonder,  terror  and  loveliness  is  so  far  effective. 
Taken  in  company  with  previous  allusions,  it  shows  the  need  of  an 
appeal  to  the  destructive  capability  of  the  sea  in  the  attempt  to 
stir  our  emotions.  At  the  same  time  advantage  is  taken  of  certain 
loving  aspects  that  it  can  assume  : — 

— thy  summer  form 
Is  beautiful,  and  when  thy  silver  waves 
Make  music  in  earth's  dark  and  winding  caves, 
I  love  to  wander  on  thy  pebbled  beach, 
Marking  the  sunlight  at  the  evening  hour, 
And  hearken  to  the  thoughts  thy  waters  teach — 
Eternity — Eternity — and  Power. 

It  is  a  pleasing  but  groundless  assiunption,  that  the  sea  remains 
tranquil  m  stmimer,  and  reserves  its  fm-y  for  winter.  The  com- 
bination '  silver  waves '  is  picturesque  and  agreeable.  The  soiind 
of  the  sea  is  once  more  invoked,  as  music  in  the  '  dark  and  wind- 
ing caves ' :  a  slight  but  admissible  exaggeration.  The  author  next 
adds  his  own  personality  to  the  scene,  a  usual  and  commendable 


112  STllENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

device,  if  well  managed.  The  '  pebbled  beach '  is  a  pictiiresque 
reminder  of  the  shore.  '  Marking  the  svmlight  at  the  evening 
hour'  is  a  pleasing  circumlociition  for  svinset,  but  not  especially 
connected  with  the  sea,  as  it  might  be.  To  hearken  to  the 
thoughts  suggested  by  the  ocean  might  add  to  the  emotional 
influence  of  the  subject,  provided  they  were  more  adequately 
given  than  in  the  words  of  the  closing  line,  which  are  wanting  in 
specitd  appropriateness.  '  Eternity '  is  not  peculiar  to  the  sea  ; 
its  highest  type  in  the  known  universe  would  be  the  stars. 

The  other  apostrophe  by  the  same  author  is  in  a  more  exciting 
strain.  The  measure  is  rapid,  like  a  lyric.  The  substance  is 
mingled  with  the  personal  history  of  a  devotee  of  ocean  life : — 

The  sea,  the  sea,  the  open  sea, 

The  blue,  the  fresh,  the  ever  free  ; 

"Without  a  mark,  without  a  bound, 

It  runneth  the  earth's  wide  regions  round. 

There  is  a  strain  of  lively  familiarity  with  the  subject,  whUe  the 
grand  features  are  given  in  poetic  touches,  with  scarcely  a  particle 
of  malignity ;  strength  and  grandeur  of  the  purest  type  prevailing 
tlu'oughout.  The  writer  endeavours  to  infect  the  reader  with  his 
individual  devotion  to  the  ocean  life ;  and  to  do  this,  he  trusts 
more  to  his  own  enthusiastic  manifestations  than  to  the  ocean's 
characteristic  merits. 

I  never  was  on  the  duU,  tame  shore 
But  I  lov'd  the  great  sea  more  and  more, 
And  backward  flew  to  her  billowy  breast, 
Like  a  bird  that  seeketh  its  mother's  nest; 
And  a  mother  she  ivas  and  is  to  me ; 
For  I  was  born  on  the  open  sea ! 

This  resembles  Byron's  closing  stanza,  being  an  attempt  to  stir 
feeling  by  the  expi'ession  of  personal  liking. 

Even  a  better  case  is  Allan  Cunningham's  ringing  song — 

A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea. 

The  being  a  '  sharer,'  like  Byron,  in  the  manifestation  of  natural 
strength  is  tlie  leading  idea ;  '  the  world  of  waters  is  our  home,' 
and  '  our  heritage  the  sea '.  The  phenomena  of  storm  are  the 
theme  selected,  and  the  delight  in  them  is  emphasized  by  con- 
trast : — 

O  for  a  soft  and  gentle  wind  I 

I  heard  a  fair  one  cry  ; 
But  give  to  me  the  snoring  breeze 
And  white  waves  heaving  high. 

The  appropriate  element  of  the  ship  is  introduced,  dignified  by 
simile  and  emotional  associations. 

The  unfathomable  depths  of  the  ocean  contribute  the  interest 
of  mystery,  which,  however,  is  necessox-ily  tinged  with  dread  or 


THE    OCEAN— WILSON.  113 

awe,  from  its  being  the  grave  of  so  many  myriads  of  our  race. 
Its  countless  population  of  animals,  a  small  number  of  which 
come  to  view,  has  a  further  interest  in  many  ways ;  yet  not 
miich  suited  to  the  highest  strains  of  poetry,  however  valuable  as 
yielding  a  variety  of  allusions. 

It  is  not  easy  to  obtain  from  the  sea  the  interest  of  beneficent 
strength.  Its  beneficial  office  as  the  chief  highway  of  human 
intercourse  on  the  great  scale,  is  not  often  dwelt  upon  by  our 
poets ;  their  instinct  teaches  them  the  siiperior  charm  of  destruc- 
tion. An  example  of  the  mode  of  stirring  oiu:  tender  feehngs  may 
be  seen  in  these  lines  of  Wilson : — 

It  is  the  midnight  hour ;— the  beauteous  sea. 

Calm  as  the  cloudless  heaven,  the  heaven  discloseSj 
While  many  a  sparkling  star,  in  quiet  glee. 
Far  down  within  the  watery  sky  reposes. 
As  if  the  ocean's  heart  were  stirred 
With  inward  life,  a  sound  is  heard. 

Like  that  of  a  dreamer  murmuring  in  his  sleep. 

The  moment  of  calm  is  chosen  for  the  purpose  ;  the  severe  repose 
of  the  starry  sky  is  added,  and  the  personality  that  is  awakened 
is  of  a.  kind  to  harmonize  with  the  tranquiUity  of  the  scene.  Never- 
theless, we  do  not  feel  ourselves  stirred  to  any  great  depths ;  the 
interest  is  only  superficial  and  transient. 

As  an  example  of  the  moral  sublime  based  on  owe  loftiest 
moral  abstraction,  we  can  refer  to  the  famous  'Ode  to  Duty,'  by 
Wordsworth.  The  subject  was  said  not  to  have  been  the  author's 
spontaneous  adoption,  but  a  weU-meant  suggestion  of  his  family. 
As  a  poetical  topic  it  is  burdened  with  disadvantages. 

Duty,  in  matter  of  fact,  is  the  severe  aspect  of  our  life :  it  is 
the  costly  struggle  we  have  to  maintain  as  the  price  of  our  privi- 
leges. By  way  of  helping  our  feeble  impulses,  the  attempt  has 
been  always  made  to  surround  it  with  a  halo  of  nobleness,  which 
is  so  far  in  the  poet's  favour,  and  makes  it  acceptable  as  an  idea, 
even  when  we  fail  in  the  practice. 

Wordsworth's  treatnaent,  however,  is  too  earnest  to  give  us 
the  full  benefit  of  this  licence.  He  assumes  that  we  are  actually 
engaged  in  doing  what  is  right,  and  his  purpose  is  to  contrast  two 
modes  of  virtuous  conduct — the  one  spontaneous,  or  depending  on 
natural  promptings ;  the  other  aided,  strengthened  and  corrected 
by  the  feeling  of  duty ;  all  which  has  the  austerity  of  a  sermon 
rather  than  the  geniality  of  a  poem.  The  poet's  success  in  such 
an  endeavour  depends  uiion  the  genius  that  he  can  throw  into  it. 

The  fii'st  line  is  boldly  conceived  : — 

Stern  Daughter  of  the  Voice  of  God  ! 

Here  is  condensation  and  force  ;  but  the  ideas  suggested  have  not 
the  highest  pitch  of  congruity.     A  '  Daughter '   is  an  engaging 


114  STBENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

object,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation,  but  '  stem  '  detracts  from  the 
tender  aspect,  and  needs  a  tragic  situation  to  give  it  suitability. 
The  '  Voice  of  God '  embodies  a  sublime  conception ;  while  to 
assign  to  it  a  daughter  is  to  embarrass  onr  imagination. 

The  remainder  of  the  first  stanza  is  devoid  of  all  poetic  adorn- 
ment ;  it  presses  home  the  serious  side  of  duty,  in  language  suited 
to  the  preacher,  and  is  forcible  in  that  view. 

The  second  stanza  is  an  advance  to  poetry  ;  it  affords  us  a 
more  cheering  and  elating  conception.  It  is  a  pictiu*e  of  those 
that  do  the  work  of  duty,  with  the  absence  of  effort.  The  last 
line  is  the  only  one  that  interferes  with  this  agreeable  spontaneity. 

The  third  stanza  pursues  the  same  agreeable  topic  and  dwells 
upon  its  blessings.  There  is  only  a  gentle  huit,  at  the  last,  of  the 
presence  of  the  severe  monitor  ;  and  the  expression  is  toned  down 
so  as  scarcely  to  interfere  with  the  general  effect. 

The  next  stanza  is  a  confession  of  inabihty  to  work  upon  pure 
spontaneity,  and  a  wish  to  become  perfect  through  the  aid  that 
duty  supplies.  This  is  so  far  a  genial  thought ;  we  like  to  see  a 
modest,  humble  demeanour  in  any  one,  whether  we  imitate  it  or 
not. 

Another  stanza  expands  the  thought.  The  aim  stiU  is  to  com- 
plete the  virtuous  type  by  invoking  duty  as  a  make-weight  to 
'unchartered  freedom'  and  'chance  desires'.  There  is  also  the  in- 
sinuation of  a  blissful  repose  that  is  to  be  the  reward  of  the  high 
combination.  The  biurden  of  duty  is  lightened  when  its  conse- 
quences can  be  extolled. 

The  poet  now  rises  above  the  preacher's  strain,  and  for  once 
redeems  the  oppressiveness  of  the  theme,  by  poetical  grandeur. 
The  first  couplet  of  the  stanza — 

Stem  Lawgiver  !  Yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace — 

surmounts  the  objections  to  the  opening  line.  'Stem  '  fits  well 
with  '  Lawgiver  '  ;  while  the  indication  of  the  alternative  character 
of  benignity  in  the  Godhead  comes  to  us  as  a  refreshing  suggestion, 
and  is  put  in  its  best  form. 

The  renuiinder  of  the  stanza  is,  in  the  fullest  sense,  poetic- 
Four  lines  express  the  benignancy  that  we  so  much  delight  in  ; — 

Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 
As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face ; 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads. 

We  willingly  accept  a  representation  so  well  adapted  to  relieve  the 
tension  and  severity  of  the  main  theme.  To  these  lines  follows 
the  poet's  superb  outburst : — 

Thou  dost  preserve  the  Stars  from  wrong ; 
And  the  most  ancient  Heavens,  tluough  Thee,  are  fresh  and  strong. 


bybon's  loch  na  gaeb.  115 

The  grandeiir  of  the  language  triumphs  over  the  want  of  relevance, 
and  justifies  the  extravagance  of  the  hyperbole.  The  stars  are 
faithfvil  to  their  prescribed  courses,  and  that  is  all  we  can  say. 

Of  all  the  kinds  of  moral  excellence,  this,  the  greatest,  is  the  most 
difficult  to  invest  with  ever  fresh  poetic  charm.  Love  and  good- 
ness, as  such,  more  readily  yield  the  genial  glow  that  we  associate 
with  poetry. 

As  a  set-off  to  the  splendour  of  Byron's  mature  composition, 
we  may  glance  at  his  boyish  production,  'Loch  na  Garr'.  The 
critical  instinct  of  Jeffrey  pounced  upon  its  weakness ;  and  a  hne- 
to-line  examination  renders  its  defects  apparent. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  second  half  of  the  opening  stanza — ■ 

Yet,  Caledonia,  beloved  are  thy  mountains, 

Eound  their  white  svimmits  though  elements  war ; 

Though  cataracts  foam  'stead  of  smooth-flowing  fountains, 
I  sigh  for  the  valley  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 

The  circumstances  chosen  and  the  epithets  describing  them  are 
common-place ;  and  that  is  not  the  worst.  The  war  of  elements 
roimd  the  moiuitain  summits  and  the  foaming  cataracts,  are  spoken 
of  as  so  many  drawbacks  to  be  surmoimted,  instead  of  bemg,  in 
the  estimate  of  the  true  Nature-worshipper,  the  highest  sources 
of  delight  in  themselves.  There  is  little  aptness  in  sighing  for  a 
valley;  the  epithet  'dark' is  purely  emoi.ional  and  Ossianic;  while 
its  relevance  is  doubtful. 

Ah !  there  my  young  footsteps  in  infancy  wander'd ; 

My  cap  was  the  bonnet,  my  cloak  was  the  plaid ; 
On  chieftains  long  perish'd  my  memory  ponder'd, 

As  daily  I  strode  through  the  pine-cover'd  glade. 

The  pleonasm  of  'young'  and  'infancy'  is  aggravated  by  the 
notion  that  infants  could  climb  the  mountain.  The  second  line 
is  trivial  and  irrelevant.  In  the  third  and  fourth,  the  intrinsic 
glory  of  the  mountain  is  made  second  to  the  tales  of  bygone 
chieftains.  When  he  strode  the  pine-covered  glades,  his  interest 
was  centred  in  these, 

I  sought  not  my  home  till  the  day's  dying  glory 
Gave  place  to  the  rays  of  the  bright  polar  star ; 

For  fancy  was  cheer'd  by  traditional  story. 

Disclosed  by  the  natives  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 

The  first  half  is  open  to  the  remark  that  the  polar  star  is  not  a 
bright  star,  nor  in  any  way  such  a  commanding  object  as  to  repi-e- 
sent  the  starry  heavens  ;  and  there  is  no  poetic  gain  in  supposing 
it  bright.  In  the  second  half,  we  have  a  mere  repetition,  without 
improvement,  of  the  story  of  the  natives. 


116  BTKENGTH— EXEMPLIFICATION. 

"  Shades  of  the  dead !  have  I  not  heard  yoitr  voices 

Rise  on  the  night-rolhng  breath  of  the  gale  ?  " 
Surely  the  soul  of  the  hero  rejoices, 
And  rides  on  the  wind  o'er  his  own  Highland  vale. 
A  bold  apostroijhe  to  the  perished  chieftains.     The  expression  is 
lofty,  and  sustained.     The  combination  '  night-rolling  breath  of  the 
gale '  is  not  easy  to  the  understanding,  but  has  emotional  keeping. 
The  second  half  is  well-worded,  if  not  very  origmal. 

Koimd  Loch  na  Garr  while  the  stormy  mist  gathers. 
Winter  presides  in  hig  cold  icy  car  : 

Clouds  there  encircle  the  forms  of  my  fathers ; 
They  dwell  in  the  tempests  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 
Here  we  have  the  defect  of  scenic  incoherence.     The  stormy  mist 
is  not  confined  to  winter:  'cold  icy  car'  is  pleonastic  and  common. 
The  place  given  to  the  forms  of  his  fathers  is  too  dubious  to  stir 
our  feelings. 

The  next  stanza  is  a  historical  contradiction  to  the  '  chieftains 
long  perished ' :  it  takes  us  no  farther  back  than  Culloden,  half  a 
century  before. 

I  quote  the  conclusion — 

England !  thy  beauties  are  tame  and  domestic 

To  one  who  has  roved  on  the  mountains  afar : 
Oil  for  the  crags  that  are  wild  and  majestic  ! 

The  steep  frowning  glories  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr ! 
The  language  is  good  in  itself,  but  unsuited  to  the  scenery  whether 
of  England  or  of  Scotland.  The  word  '  domestic  '  is  forced  by  the 
rhjnne  to  'majestic,'  rather  than  suggested  by  the  fact.  Too 
much  is  made  of  the  crags  and  steep  frowning  glories  of  Loch  na 
Garr.  There  is  one  bold  precipice,  on  which  a  Nature  poet  would 
have  expended  his  energy,  but  Byron  had  not  caught  the  actual 
features  of  the  scene  that  he  professes  to  have  revelled  in ;  or  else 
his  memory  had  failed  to  reproduce  the  strong  points' as  they 
would  have  been  given  by  Scott. 

The  poet  has  made  a  beginning  in  the  command  of  poetic 
diction,  as  well  as  metre ;  his  gi-eat  want  is  coherence  and  truth. 
Moreover,  his  originality  is  as  yet  in  abeyance;  it  needed  the 
stimulus  of  Jeffrey's  attack  in  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

The  poem  has  the  very  great  virtue  of  lucidity,  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  author's  compositions  throughout. 

The  next  example  is  from  Keats's  description  of  Hyperion  in 
his  palace,  rcignijig  unsubdued,  yet  inseciure,  after  all' the  other 
Titans  are  overthrown:  — 

His  palace  bright, 
Bastion'd  with  pyramids  of  glowing  gold, 
And  toucli'd  with  shade  of  bronzed  obelisks. 
Glared  a  blood-red  thi-ough  all  its  thousand  courtS/ 


KEATS'S  DESCRIPTION   OF   HYPEEION.  117 

ArcTies,  and  domes,  and  fiery  galleries ; 

And  all  its  curtains  of  Anrorian  clouds 

Flush'd  angerly  :  while  sometimes  eagles'  wings, 

Unseen  before  by  gods  or  wondering  men, 

Darken'd  the  place  ;  and  neighing  steeds  were  heard. 

Not  heard  before  by  gods  or  wondering  men. 

Also,  when  he  would  taste  the  spicy  wreaths 

Of  mcense,  breath'd  aloft  from  sacred  hills, 

Instead  of  sweets,  his  ample  palate  took 

Savour  of  poisonous  brass  and  metal  sick : 

And  so,  when  harbour'd  in  the  sleepy  west< 

After  the  fioll  completion  of  fair  day, 

For  rest  divine  upon  exalted  couch, 

And  slmnber  in  the  arms  of  melody, 

He  paced  away  the  pleasant  hours  of  ease 

With  stride  colossal,  on  from  hall  to  hall ; 

While  far  within  each  aisle  and  deep  recess 

His  winged  minions  in  close  clusters  stood, 

Amazed  and  full  of  fear ;  like  anxious  men 

"VVTio  on  wide  plains  gather  in  panting  troops, 

Wlien  earthquakes  jar  their  battlements  and  towers. 
In  this  passage,  the  giant  nature  of  Hyperion  is  assmned,  and 
everything  is  intended  to  harmonize  with  it.  His  gigantic  body  is 
implied  in  his  '  stride  colossal  *  and  his  '  ample  palate ' ;  and  his 
greatness  of  mind  is  expressed  in  the  massive  passion  depicted. 
The  vast  palace  is  described,  not  so  that  we  can  conceive  it,  but 
with  terms  of  vague  splendour  and  awe.  The  first  three  lines  do 
not  contain  a  picture ;  they  serve  mainly  to  give  emotional  im- 
pression ;  which  is  kept  up  by  the  '  thousand  coiirts,  arches,  and 
domes  and  fiery  galleries,'  its  '  cmrtains  of  Aiurorian  clouds,'  its 
aisles  and  deep  recesses. 

But  the  main  object  of  the  passage  is  to  realize  the  idea  of 
vague  fear,  expressed  in  massive  forms  that  should  correspond  to 
the  greatness  of  Hyperion  himself.  Unaccountable  omens  there- 
fore are  introduced— the  blood-red  glare  through  the  palace,  the 
angry  flush  on  the  curtains,  the  flap  of  eagles'  wings,  the  soimd  of 
neighing  steeds,  the  poisonous  air  exhaled  for  perfume.  The  mys- 
tery is  increased  by  the  apparent  want  of  relation  to  the  circum- 
stances in  these  incidents.  Further,  the  impression  is  deepened 
by  the  sleeplessness  produced  in  Hyperion  himself,  notwithstanding 
his  strong  defiance  of  all  opposition;  and  this  feeling  of  awe  is  seen 
extending  also  to  his  dependents. 

Thus  the  impression  of  the  passage  rests  on  the  combined 
ideas  of  vastness  and  mystery.  These  two  conceptions  are  well 
fitted  to  harmonize.  The  chief  criticism  would  be  that  there  is 
room  to  doubt  whether  some  of  these  omens  of  fear,  such  as  the 
eagles  and  the  steeds,  are  on  a  large  enough  scale  to  be  suitable 
for  so  gigantic  a  natm-e. 

The  efTect  of  mystery  alone  may  be  well  studied  in  the  speech 


118  STRENGTH — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

of  Eliphaz  in  the  Book  of  Job  (Chap.  IV.) :  '  In  thoughts  from  the 
visions  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep  faHeth  on  men,  fear  came 
upon  me,  and  trembUng,  v.hich  made  aU  my  bones  to  shake.  Then 
a  spirit  passed  before  my  face  ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  tip ;  it 
stood  still,  btit  I  coidd  not  discern  the  form  thereof:  an  image 
was  before  mine  eyes,  there  was  silence,  and  I  heard  a  voice, 

saying .' 

The  mystery  is  here  aided  by  the  impression  of  fear,  the  vague 
sense  of  a  presence,  the  inabihty  to  distinguish  the  form,  and  ttie 
voice  proceeding  fxom  this  ghostly  visitant.  Mystery  is  not  suit- 
able in  itself  to  produce  any  powerful  impression ;  but  it  will  often 
give  considerable  aid  to  some  other  elTect,  by  raising  a  vague 
idea  of  thmgs  beyond  what  have  been  shown.  Here  it  is  employed 
to  impress  the  thought  of  the  words  that  follow  by  representing 
them  as  a  voice  from  the  spirit  world ;  and  we  have  seen  how  it 
sui^ports  the  idea  of  vastness.  It  serves  also  to  temper  the  im- 
pressions of  fear,  and  to  aid  the  effects  of  plot  interest. 

The  subjective  type  of  the  Sublime  may  be  studied  in  Words- 
worth's famous  Sonnet : — 

The  world  is  too  much  with  us ;  late  and  soon, 
Gettuig  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers ; 
Little  we  see  in  Nature  that  is  ours  ; 
"We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid  boon  I 
This  Sea  that  bares  her  bosom  to  the  moon, 
The  winds  that  will  be  howling  at  all  hours 
And  are  up-gather'd  now  like  sleeping  flowers. 
For  this,  for  every  thing,  we  are  out  of  tune ; 
It  moves  us  not. — Great  God !  I'd  rather  be 
A  Pagan  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn, — 
So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea, 
Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  less  forlorn  ; 
Have  sight  of  Proteus  rising  from  the  sea ; 
Or  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn. 
The   Strength   of    this    Sonnet   comes   from   severtil   distinct 
sources.     There  is,  first,  the  elevated  thought  of  the  whole.     Ob- 
serve  here   that   while   the   basis   of  thought   is  subjective,  the 
weakening  impression  of  subjectivity  is  to  some  extent  removed 
by  the  objective  contrasts  in  the  middle  and  at  the  end.    Secondly, 
there   is  lofty  scom   expressed.      This   is   first   given   quietly  in 
lines   4   and  8  ;    and  then  it  comes   oiat  in  a  powerful   burst  of 
indignation.     Lastly,  a  considerable  psirt  of   the  power   depends 
upon   the    choice   treatment   of   the   concrete    examples   already 
referred  to. 

The  Sonnet  not  only  exemplifies  the  Sublimity  of  great 
thoughts,  but  also  sliows  the  need,  in  the  treatment  of  these,  for 
having  regard  to  Objectivity  and  Concreteness.  AVithout  the  aid 
of  tlie  luies  thus  characterized,  the  impression  of  the  whole 
would  be  very  much  weakened. 


FEELING. 

The  emotion  called  Tender  Feeling,  Love,  Affec- 
tion, the  Heart — constituting  the  amicable  side  of  our 
nature — is  the  basis  of  a  distinct  class  of  sensibilities, 
pleasurable  and  painful. 

These,  in  their  actual  exercise,  make  up  a  large 
amount  of  life  interest ;  while,  in  the  ideal  representa- 
tion, through  Poetry  and  the  other  arts,  their  sphere  is 
still  further  extended. 

The  word  *  feeling '  has  a  restricted  application  to  Tender 
Feeling,  or  Tenderness.  Love  and  the  warm  affections  are 
displays  of  Tender  Feeling.  These  affections  are  the  great 
bond  of  liking  and  union  among  human  beings  ;  and  they 
are  increased  by  being  shared.  Their  pleasure-causing 
efficacy  is  further  shown  by  their  power  of  soothing  in 
misery  or  depression ;  a  situation  to  which  the  term  Pathos 
is  more  specially  applied. 

SUBJECTS  CLASSIFIED. 
THE  DOMESTIC  GROUP. 

1.  In  this  group  are  included  the  relationship  of 
the  Sexes  ;  the  Parental  and  Filial  relationships ;  the 
Fraternal  relationships. 

Love  of  the  Sexes,  one  of  the  strongest  feelings  of  the 
human  mind,  has,  in  modern  times  especially,  been  found 
capable  of  artistic  embodiment  with  the  highest  effect. 
It  is  a  compound  of  various  elements,  which  will  have  to  be 
viewed  in  separation. 

Parental  Feeling  is  a  co-equal  source  of  interest  in  actual 
life,  and  also  enters  largely  into  Literature,  although  not  in 
the  same  manner  or  degree  as  the  emotion  of  the  sexes.  It 
usually  constitutes  but  a  minor  incident  in  the  working  out 
of  a  Love  plot. 


120  FEELING— SUBJECTS   CLASSIFIED. 

The  reciprocal  affection  of  Children  to  Parents  and  the 
attachment  between  Brothers  and  Sisters,  come  under  the 
same  general  emotion  of  Tender  regard ;  but  they  are 
feebler  in  the  reality,  and  less  capable  of  ideal  embodi- 
ment, than  either  Sexual  or  Parental  feeling.  Under  peculiar 
circumstances,  they  may  contribute  to  powerful  situations 
in  Poetry,  and  some  of  the  grandest  creations  of  the  Greek 
Drama  depend  upon  them.  Shakespeare's  '  King  Lear '  is 
a  modern  example. 

FEIENDSHIP. 

2.  friendship  is  the  attachment  between  persons 
not  of  the  same  family,  as  determined  by  commmiity  of 
hkings. 

In  the  ancient  world,  the  attachments  between  men 
were  even  more  celebrated  than  the  love  of  the  sexes. 

Tennyson's  In  Memoriam  carries  this  relationship,  under 
bereavement,  to  the  loftiest  strain  yet  attempted  by  any 
poet. 

CO-PATEIOTISM. 

3.  Between  subjects  of  the  same  state  and  members 
of  the  same  society,  there  may  originate  a  species  of 
attachment,  occasionally  rising  to  passionate  intensity, 
and  capable  of  literary  effects. 

The  sentiment  is  a  complex  one.  The  mere  tender 
interest  is  rarely  strong ;  the  prominent  examples  are 
chiefly  the  cases  of  danger  from  a  common  enemy,  and  are 
such  as  to  call  forth  the  fighting  or  malevolent  interest.  In 
this  form,  patriotic  poetry  is  both  abundant  and  rousing. 

The  neiglibourly  relation  of  citizens  is  one  of  our  forms 
of  tender  interest.  It  is  an  extension  of  the  family  situa- 
tion, and  grows  warm  upon  services  given  and  received. 
Rivalries  and  jealousies  likewise  spring  up,  and  give  scope 
for  the  malign  pleasures  as  well.  In  the  life  pictures  of 
romance,  both  kinds  of  interest  are  largely  made  use  of. 

BENEVOLENT  INTEREST. 

4.  Pity  for  the  distressed,  kindness  to  dependents, 
protectorship,  general  philantliropy,  all  centre  in  the 
Tender  Emotion,  with  aids  fiom  Sympathy  strictly 
so  called. 


RELIGION. — TENDEENESS   PEESONIFIED.  121 

The  workings  of  these  various  fonns  of  benevolent 
interest  can  be  so  represented  in  language  as  to  awaken  an 
ideal  interest  in  our  fellow-beings  generally. 

EELIGION. 

5.  The  sentiment  of  Religious  regard  is  a  complica- 
tion of  different  feelings  ;  in  its  highest  and  purest  type, 
tender  emotion  has  the  leading  place. 

Eeligion,  in  its  ideal  form,  consists  in  love  of  the  Deity 
and  love  to  man  for  His  sake.  This  is  the  substance  of 
Christ's  answer  to  the  question,  '  Which  is  the  great  com- 
mandment of  the  law? '  (Matthew  xxii.  35-40) ;  and  it  is 
abundantly  expressed,  in  combination  with  lower  elements, 
in  the  Psalms  and  in  the  devotional  literature  of  Christianity. 

TENDERNESS   PEESONIFIED. 

6.  Our  interest  in  Nature,  as  flowing  out  of  per- 
sonified and  other  relations  to  ourselves,  is  partly 
Strength  and  partly  Tenderness. 

While  the  interest  of  Strength  makes  the  Sublime, 
the  interest  of  Feeling  is  related  to  Beauty. 

The  effects  of  Tenderness  and  Beauty,  arising  in  the 
natural  world,  are  far  more  numerous  and  pervading  than 
the  effects  of  Sti-ength  and  Sublimity.  Even  the  grandest 
objects  of  the  heavens,  and  the  mightiest  forces  of  the  earth, 
have  their  tender  aspects,  which  are  copiously  set  forth  in 
poetry. 

One  chief  occasion  for  dwelling  on  the  tender  side  of 
natural  things  is  to  provide  harmonious  surroundings  for 
the  love  emotions  of  humanity.  Nevertheless,  among  the 
subjects  of  poetry  are  inanimate  scenes  of  nature,  plants 
and  animals  ;  all  which  can  be  made  to  reflect  personality 
in  some  of  its  phases. 

SOREOW— PATHOS. 

7.  Sorrow  is  resolvable  into  a  manifestation  of  Pain 
(however  arising),  partly  or  wholly  assuaged  by  a  gush 
of  Tenderness. 

The  soothing  influence  may,  in  amount,  prove  below, 
equal  to,  or  above  the  suffering. 

The  pains  arising  from  crosses  in  the  tender  affections 


122  FEELING — CONSTITUENTS. 

themselves — the  greatest  of  all  being  the  death  of  beloved 
ones — are  the  most  perfect  stimulants  of  grief  and  tender- 
ness, and  are  in  consequence  the  chief  instrument  employed 
for  calling  the  emotion  into  sympathetic  exercise. 

The  feeling  is  abused  when,  in  literary  treatment,  greater 
pains  are  depicted  than  the  tender  outburst  can  assuage. 
We  must  bear  with  such  cases  in  the  actual  world  9.nd  in 
history,  but  w^e  need  not  have  them  reproduced  in  art. 


CONSTITUENTS  OF  TENDEKNESS. 

1.  The  Tender  Feelings  of  mankind  may  be  referred 
to  three  instinctive  fomidations — Sex,  Parental  Feeling, 
and  Gregariousness. 

The  most  marked  of  the  human  instincts,  in  connexion 
with  the  Tender  Emotions,  are  the  two  that  relate  to  the 
Sexes  and  to  Parentage.  These  are  intense  and  specialized 
forms  of  the  more  difl'used  and  general  interest  of  sociability. 
It  is  impossible  to  lay  down  any  order  of  precedence  among 
the  three  instincts.  They  have  characteristics  in  common, 
with  variety  of  degree. 

LOVE  OF  THE  SEXES. 

2.  In  the  Love  of  the  Sexes,  the  j5rst  ingredient 
is  the  Animal  Passion. 

This  is  in  a  great  measure  excluded  from  Art,  for  moral 
reasons  ;  although  different  ages  and  different  peoples  have 
viewed  it  differently,  and  ancient  poetry  could  not  be 
adequately  criticized  without  adverting  to  it.  Modern 
poets,  when  not  ignoring  it,  keep  it  at  a  distance  by  the 
arts  of  suggestion,  innuendo,  and  other  devices  for  refining 
the  grossness  of  the  animal  passions. 

3.  The  next  ingredient  is  Physical  Attraction. 

In  man,  as  in  many  of  the  lower  animals,  each  sex  has 
a  characteristic  physical  conformation  by  which  the  other 
sex  is  drawn  and  fascinated.  The  superior  charm  of  women 
with  men,  and  of  men  with  women,  is  explained  by  this 
difference;  and  the  more  completely  it  is  realized,  the  greater 
is  the  beauty  of  the  one  in  the  estimation  of  the  other. 
Stature,  form,  structure  of  skin,  are  all  to  a  certain  degree 


GEOUNDS   OF   ATTRACTION   OF   THE    SEXES.  123 

peculiar  for  each  sex  ;  and  an  interest  is  generated  through 
the  several  peculiarities. 

The  eye  is  not  the  only  sense  affected  by  the  peculiarities 
of  sex.  The  distinctive  quality  of  voice  appeals  to  the  ear. 
Touch  and  odour  are  also  media  of  attraction  between  the 
sexes,  and  between  human  beings  generally. 

The  artistic  embodiment  of  sex  distinctions  is  complete 
only  in  painting  and  in  sculpture.  The  attempt  to  repre- 
sent in  poetry  the  human  form  and  features  has  the  defects 
peculiar  to  verbal  description.  To  whatever  extent  poetry 
can  overcome  this  disadvantage,  it  exceeds  the  power  of 
painting  by  appealing  to  a  plurality  of  senses. 

4.  The  third  ingredient  may  be  described  as 
Mental  Attraction ;  the  principal  element  being  De- 
votedness,  or  Keciprocal  liking. 

The  mode  of  Mental  attractiveness  that  principally  ope- 
rates to  heighten  the  charm  of  sex,  is  reciprocal  love  and 
devotion.  The  highest  form  of  this  Devotedness  is  the  good- 
ness that  imparts  material  benefits ;  next  is  the  expression 
of  friendly  interest  and  benevolent  sentiment ;  and,  lastly, 
the  varied  language  of  personal  afi'ection  and  endearment. 

It  is  perfectly  possible,  and  not  unfrequent,  for  the  one 
sex  to  be  drawn  to  the  other  by  physical  charms  alone,  and 
in  the  absence  of  reciprocated  affection.  But  the  influence  of 
expressed  love  on  one  side  to  draw  forth  love  on  the  other,  is 
a  power  in  itself,  and  co-operates  mightily  with  personal 
attractiveness.     As  seen  in  Barry  Cornwall's  song — 

Man,  man  loves  his  steed, 

For  its  blood  or  its  breed. 
For  its  odour  the  rose,  for  its  honey  the  bee, 

His  own  haughty  beauty, 

From  pride  or  from  duty ; 
But  /love  my  love,  because  he  loves  me. 

5.  The  influence  of  Eeciprocation  of  love  and  attach- 
ment pervades  all  the  forms  of  Tender  Feeling. 

This  is  the  great  force  that  holds  human  beings  together, 
without  reference  to  the  special  instincts.  The  rendering  of 
mutual  services  is  a  basis  of  affection,  when  there  is  no  other. 

Gratitude  expresses  the  response  to  favours  received, 
especially  when  there  is  no  equal  return  in  kind.  It  is  the 
emotion  engendered  by  important  services,  and  is  a  species 
of  tender  affection  to  which  mankind  are  more  or  less  bus- 


124  FEELING — CONSTITUENTS. 

ceptible.     The  interplay  of  assistance  and  kindness  Is  the 
ideal  of  happiness  tbi'ough  every  relation  of  society. 

6.  Besides  reciprocal  liking,  the  love  of  the  Sexes  is 
promoted  by  every  form  of  physical,  intellectual,  or 
moral  Excellence. 

The  various  forms  of  physical  and  intellectual  excellence 
that  make  up  efficiency  for  the  uses  of  life,  give  attractiveness 
or  interest  to  personality,  and  augment  the  charm  of  the 
love  affection.  Hence  in  depicting  ideal  characters  with  a 
view  to  imparting  interest,  these  other  forms  of  excellence 
are  superadded. 

The  narrative  of  Othello's  love-making,  as  given  by  him- 
self, shows  how  extremely  wide  is  the  sphere  of  interest 
between  the  sexes. 

PARENTAL    FEELING. 

7.  In  the  Paeental  Eelation  we  have  an  instinc- 
tive source  of  emotion,  ranking  in  strength  with  Love 
of  the  Sexes.  The  typical  embodiment  is  the  regard 
of  the  Mother  towards  her  own  child. 

The  infant,  besides  its  personal  relation  to  the  mother, 
is  characterized  by  helplessness  and  total  dependence,  of 
which  the  most  conspicuous  mark  is  its  Littleness.  Maternal 
care  receives  support  from  the  accompanying  fondness. 

The  instinct  for  protecting  the  helpless  and  the  little  is 
not  confined  to  the  maternal  breast.  The  father  shares 
with  the  mother  the  regard  for  his  own  offspring.  People 
that  are  not  parents  still  show  the  paternal  instinct  so  far 
as  to  experience  a  protective  fondness  towards  creatures 
that  are  relatively  little,  weak,  and  dependent. 

The  protectorship  thus  manifested  is  diffused  throughout 
all  the  relationships  of  mankind  ;  being,  so  far,  a  source  of 
benevolent  impulses  and  a  check  upon  our  malevolent 
promptings.  To  evoke  this  salutary  as  well  as  enjoy- 
able attitude  of  mind,  the  picture  of  weakness,  humility, 
dependence,  littleness,  has  to  be  drawn.  The  child-like 
situation  of  perfect  subjection  and  total  dependence,  together 
with  the  diminutive  form  and  sensuous  attractions,  is  the 
inspiring  cause  of  this  variety  of  tender  feeling. 

Pity  for  suffering,  or  for  distress  generally,  may  be  connected, 
in  the  depths  of  our  uaturo,  with  the  same  emotional  foimtaiu,  but 


EECIPEOCAL   RELATION   OP   CHILD    TO   PARENT,  125 

it  has  a  somewhat  different  manifestation.  It  is  a  mixture  of  the 
pain  of  sympathy  and  the  pleasm'e  of  tender  emotion  m  general ; 
and,  in  many  eases,  the  pain  predominates.  Although,  therefore, 
it  is  so  far  a  source  of  pleasure,  it  is  not  the  same  intense  gi-atifica- 
tion  as  the  love  of  the  little.  A  wounded  elephant,  or  a  suffering 
giant,  would  inspire  pity ;  but  an  infant  at  the  breast,  a  pet  canary, 
a  child's  doll,  exemplify  a  far  deeper  interest.  On  occasions  when 
the  strong  are  dependent  on  the  kindness  of  the  weak,  it  is  not 
•uncommon  to  assume  the  fiction  of  the  opposite  relationship ;  as 
when  the  child  applies  the  language  of  petting  to  its  parent. 

The  physical  and  mental  charms  of  infancy  heighten, 
but  do  not  make,  the  parental  fondness.  Still  more  efficient 
is  the  growth  of  a  counter  affection  on  the  part  of  the  child. 

There  is  a  contribution  from  this  source  of  emotion  to 
the  love  of  the  sexes,  owing  to  the  circumstance  that,  in  man, 
as  in  most  of  the  inferior  animals,  the  male  is  physically 
stronger,  as  well  as  legally  superior.  The  tenderness  of  a 
mother  for  her  child  may  be  regarded  as  so  far  a  type  of 
human  tenderness  in  general. 

8.  The  reciprocal  or  upward  affection  of  the  child  for 
the  parent,  has  no  natural  instinct  to  draw  upon  ;  and 
is,  therefore,  a  case  of  Gratitude,  more  or  less  promoted 
by  the  situation. 

The  inferiority  of  the  reciprocated  attachment  of  children 
to  parents  has  been  often  noticed.  It  seems  to  be  a  species 
of  gratitude  arising  out  of  the  sense  of  the  long  continued 
attentions  of  the  parent.  The  prodigal,  when  he  said,  'I  will 
arise  and  go  to  my  father,'  was  driven  by  stress  of  hunger, 
more  than  by  filial  regard :  the  father  overlooked  all  his 
folly,  and  welcomed  him  with  a  gush  of  tenderness.  In 
endeavouring  to  awaken  our  tender  interest  from  this  source, 
the  poet  or  artist  works  at  a  disadvantage.  Gratitude  is  a 
natural  product  under  given  circumstances,  and  is  strength- 
ened by  the  sense  of  justice ;  but  it  is  not  a  first-class 
emotion,  like  the  sexual  feeling,  or  the  interest  in  the  little 
and  the  protected.  At  the  same  time,  its  opposite — ingrati- 
tude— is  a  source  of  the  acutest  pain. 

This  is  one  of  the  difficulties  felt  in  arousing  the  religious 
regards.  Christianity,  recognizing  the  difficulty,  endeavours 
to  employ  to  the  fullest  our  capacities  of  realizing  Tender 
Feeling  towards  a  Superior,  by  clothing  the  relation  of  God 
to  man  with  all  the  attributes  of  Fatherhood. 


126  FEELING — CONSTITUENTS. 

9.  The  Fraternal  feeling,  though  no  less  real  than 
the  filial,  is  of  the  same  infeiior  kind,  as  compared  with 
the  downward  regards. 

The  embodiment  of  this  Feeling,  in  fact  or  in  fiction, 
affects  us  but  sUghtly.  In  extraordinary  situations,  both 
filial  and  fraternal  devotedness  may  be  made  touching,  but 
then  only  by  a  great  expenditure  of  literary  power. 

10.  Friendship  grounded  in  personal  fascination, 
and  strengthened  by  reciprocal  attachment  and  kind 
offices,  may  rank  second  to  the  feeling  between  the 
sexes. 

To  make  an  attractive  picture  of  friendship  demands 
nearly  the  same  arts  as  the  love  passion.  The  intrinsic 
charms  and  virtues  of  the  object  have  to  be  more  powerfully 
supplemented  by  reciprocal  attachment  or  devotion,  than  iu 
the  case  of  the  sexual  and  parental  regards. 

GEEGARIOUSNESS. 

11.  Concurring  with  the  two  special  instincts  for 
continuing  the  species,  is  the  general  sociability  of 
mankind,  as  shown  in  the  disposition  to  live  in  com- 
pany, at  least  while  the  combative  instinct  is  dormant. 

Its  most  specific  display  is  the  Sympathy  of  Num- 
bers. 

The  sexual  and  parental  instincts  are  strongly  indi- 
vidual ;  the  filial,  fraternal,  and  other  friendships  are  also 
individual.  Gregariousness,  or  the  general  Sociability  of  the 
race,  is  shown  in  the  thrilling  influence  of  numbers  or 
masses  collectively.  This  element  is  necessarily  conspicuous 
in  all  the  Patriotic  displays  of  tender  feeling. 

Gregariousness  supposes  a  certain  amount  of  personal 
interest  in  human  beings  individually  as  well  as  collectively. 
Every  individual  man,  as  such,  has  a  fellow-feeling  with 
every  otlier.  Variations  in  liking  take  their  rise  from  the 
great  differences  between  individuals.  Some  points  of 
character  awaken  combativeness,  some  contempt  or  dislike ; 
while  other  peculiarities  develop  a  special  interest,  leading 
to  friendship  and  attachment  in  all  degrees  of  intensity. 

The  exemplification  of  the  poetic  rendering  of  Tender 


ORDER   OF  EXEMPLIFICATION.  127 

Feeling  will  depart  from  the  arrangement  given  under 
Strength,  and  will  follow  the  order  of  the  Classes ;  the 
reference  to  the  ultimate  Constituents  supplying  the  condi- 
tions of  effect.  For  clearness'  sake,  these  Constituents  may 
now  be  resumed  as  follows  : — 

(1)  Sexual  Feeling,  as  Animal  Passion. 

(2)  Sexual  Feeling,  as  Personal  Fascination ;  together 
with  its  presence  in  the  other  relations. 

(3)  The  influence  of  Reciprocal  and  Mutual  Devoted- 
ness :  viewed  as  pervading  all  the  species  of  Tender 
Emotion,  and  as  the  chief  foundation  of  filial,  fraternal  and 
other  individual  attachments. 

(4)  The  Parental  Feehng :  with  its  deiivatives,  love  of 
the  little,  the  helpless  and  the  distressed.  Protection 
generally. 

(5)  The  Feeling  of  the  Gregarious,  or  General  Socia- 
bility, conspicuous  in  the  influence  of  the  collective  mass 
on  the  individual. 

The  mode  of  appeal  to  these  ultimate  varieties  of  tender 
emotion  is  governed  by  the  characteristic  feature  of  each. 

VOCABULAEY  OF  FEELING. 

1.  Subjects. 

Domestic  group  : — '  Lover,'  *  wooer,'  '  suitor,'  '  sweet- 
heart,' *pet,'  'darling';  'husband," wife,'  'spouse,'  'mother,' 
'father,'  'parent,'  'child,'  'babe,'  'infant,'  'son,'  'daughter,' 
'boy,'  'girl,'  'brother,'  'sister'  ;  'home,'  'hearth,'  'fireside,' 
'  household  gods' ;  '  kinsman,'  '  relation,'  '  kindred,'  '  blood- 
relation,'  'forefather,'  'ancestor,'  'descendant,'  'heir'. 

Friendship  : — '  Friend,'  '  companion,'  '  mate,'  '  comrade,' 
'associate,'  'confidant,'  'bed-fellow,'  '  good  genius,'  'bosom- 
friend,'  '  boon  companion  '. 

Co-patriotism  :— '  Neighbour,*  '  fellow-citizen,'  '  fellow- 
countryman,'  '  compatriot,'  '  companion-in-arms  '. 

The  Gregarious  or  numbers  collectively: — 'Assemblage,' 
'multitude,'  'gathering,'  'host,'  'congregation';  '  company,' 
'brotherhood,'  'society,'  'meeting,'  'army,'  'legion,'  'array,' 
'troop,'  'clan,'  'tribe,'  '  congress,' '  council,'  'crowd,'  'en- 
campment,' '  flock,'  '  herd,'  *  swarm,'  '  shoal '. 

Benevolent  interest: — 'Benefactor,'  'philanthropist,' 
'saviour,'  'deliverer,'  'guardian-angel,'  'good  Samaritan,' 
*  Howard*. 


123  FEELING — VOCABULARY. 

Eeligion  : — '  God,'  '  Lord,'  '  Heavenly  Father,'  '  Ee- 
deemer,'  '  Saviour,'  '  Mediator,'  '  Holy  Spirit,'  '  Comforter,' 
*  Paraclete,'  '  angel,'  '  heavenly  host,'  '  sons  of  God,'  '  minis- 
tering spirits,'  '  celestial  visitants  '. 

Pathos  and  Sorrow: — 'Sufferer,'  'bereaved  one,'  'af- 
flicted,' '  troubled,'  '  down-trodden,'  '  widow,'  '  orphan,' 
'  fatherless,'  '  martyr,'  '  prey,'  '  victim,'  '  poor,'  '  needy  '. 

2.  Qualities. 

Pervading  names  for  Tender  Feeling  : — '  Love,'  '  affec- 
tion,' 'endearment,'  'attachment,'  'fondness,'  'passion 
(tender),'  '  warmheartedness,'  '  devotion,'  '  goodness,'  '  kind- 
ness,' *  benevolence,'  '  charity,'  '  humanity,'  '  sympathy,' 
'  fellow-feeling,'  '  benignant,'  '  amity,'  '  sociability  '. 

More  special  to  the  Sexes  : — '  Ardour,'  '  flame,'  '  passion,' 
'  devotion,'  '  adoring,'  '  burning,'  '  smitten,'  '  captivated,' 
'charmed,'  'enraptured';  'kissing,'  'caressing,'  'embracing,' 
'  courting,'  'wooing'.  'Marriage,'  'honey-moon,'  'nuptials,' 
'  Hymen,'  '  the  altar,'  '  wedlock,'  '  espousals  ' ;  '  conjugal,' 
'  connubial,'  '  wedded  '.  '  Parental,'  '  motherly,'  '  fatherly,' 
'petting,'  'nursing,'  'protecting,'  'pitying,'  'caring  for,' 
'  supporting,'  '  watching,'  '  nourishing  '. 

Compassion,  Philanthropy: — 'Benevolence,'  'benefi- 
cence,' 'bounty,'  'goodness,'  '  kind  offices,'  '  services,' '  as- 
sistance,' '  benefits,'  '  generosity,'  '  sympathy,'  '  pity,' 
'charity';  'long-suffering,'  'grace,'  '  forgiveness,' 'pardon,' 
'intercession,'  'conciliation,'  'propitiation'.  Eeciprocal 
and  upward  Tenderness  :  — '  Thankfulness,'  '  gratitude,'  '  re- 
sponse,' '  requital,'  '  acknowledgment,'  '  looking  up  to,' 
'  reverence '. 

Pains  awakening  Tenderness: — 'Sorrow,'  'sadness,' 
'woe,'  'tears,'  'crying,'  'grief,'  'distress,'  'misery,'  'trial,' 
'trouble,'  'suffering,'  'affliction,'  'bereavement,'  'desola- 
tion,' '  wretchedness,'  '  tribulation,'  '  broken  heart,'  '  ad- 
versity,' '  calamity,'  '  disaster,'  '  bitterness,'  '  sinking,' 
'  inconsolable,'  '  dejected,'  '  doomed,'  '  devoted,'  '  undone,' 
'despair,'  'tragic,'  'accursed,'  'ache,'  'pang,'  'agony,' 
'anguish,'  'torment,'  'torture,'  'death,'  'the  grave,'  'the 
tomb,'  '  the  departed  '. 

Pleasures  allied  to  Tenderness  : — '  Joy,'  '  delight,'  'glad- 
ness,' 'happiness,'  'bliss,'  'youth,'  'charm,'  'glee';  'genial,' 
'  sweet,'  'delicious,'  'heart-felt,'  'cordial,'  'rejoicing,'  'cheer- 
ing';  '  sunshine,' '  comfort,'  '  calmness,' '  serenity,'  'trans- 


NAMES   OF   TENDER   QUALITIES.  129 

port,'  'fascination,'  'ravishment,'  'ecstasy,'  'paradise,' 
'Elysium,'  'seventh  heaven'. 

Names  for  Beauty  employed  to  awaken  Tenderness  : — 
'Beautiful,'  'graceful,'  'elegant,'  'comely,'  'lovely';  'adorn- 
ment,' 'witchery';  'fair,'  'handsome,'  'delicate,'  'refined,' 
'  well-favoured,'  '  seemly,'  '  blooming,'  '  bright,'  '  brilliant,' 
'resplendent,' '  v/ell-formed,'  'becoming,'  'tasteful,' ' classical,' 
'  chaste,'  '  courtly '. 

Names  for  the  Virtues  that  inspire  Tender  Feeling, 
coupled  with  more  or  less  of  admiration : — '  Fairness,' 
'  justice,'  '  equity,'  '  reciprocity  '  (in  good  oflices),  '  fair  play,' 
'even-handed,'  'generosity,'  'rewarding  desert,'  'approba- 
tion,' '  esteem,'  '  praise,'  '  regard,'  '  respect,'  '  honesty,' 
'  uprightness,'  '  probity,'  '  fidelity,'  '  constancy,'  '  trust- 
worthiness,' '  punctuality,'  '  scrupulosity,'  '  generosity,' 
'  liberality,'  '  nobleness,'  '  purity,'  '  magnanimity,'  '  incor- 
ruptibility,' 'innocence';  'harmless,'  'blameless,'  'faultless,' 
' dove-like,'  '  angelic '. 

Names  for  the  Eeligious  aspects  of  Tenderness : — 
'Piety,'  'faith,'  'grace,'  'godliness,'  'reverence,'  'sacred- 
ness,'  'devoutness,'  'sanctity,'  'holiness,'  'humility,'  'purity,' 
'innocence,'  '  sinlessness,'  'heavenly,'  'holy  beauty,'  'divine 
peace,'  '  saint,'  *  child  of  God,'  '  redeemed,'  '  unearthly,' 
'  heavenly-minded," spiritually-minded,'  'consecration,'  'unc- 
tion,' '  salvation,'  '  redemption,'  '  prayer,'  '  supplication,' 
'  adoi^ation,'  '  devotion,'  '  worship,'  'benediction  '. 

Pathos  of  Time: — 'Old,'  'past,'  'foretime,'  '  aftertime,' 
'ages  past  and  future,'  'generations  gone-by — to  come,' 
'antiquated,'  'forgotten,'  'eternal,'  'enduring,'  'for  ever'; 
'  Ancient  of  days  '. 

Names  for  the  Little  : — Diminutives  of  Grammar,  '  tiny,' 
'  lambkin,'  '  atom,'  '  mite,'  '  pigmy '. 

3.  Antipathetic  Vocabulary. 

Diametrical  opposites  of  Tenderness  : — 'Hatred,'  '  male- 
volence,' 'revenge,'  'aversion'.  Opposites  from  Strength  : — ■ 
Vocabulary  of  strength  and  energy  without  malevolence. 
Coarse  and  slang  terms ;  the  ludicrous.  Forms  of  misery  too 
intense  to  be  redeemed.  Exultation  of  triumph  and  victory. 
The  stately  Classical  vocabulary  :  magniloquence  generally. 
Language  studiously  and  artificially  compacted. 

4.  Names  for  Associated  circumstances. 

Under   Figures   of   Contiguity  was   shown   the  use   of 
7 


130  FEELING — CONDITIONS. 

adjuncts  and  connections  in  enlarging  the  means  of  express- 
ing emotion.  The  operation  is  still  wider.  The  Associated 
language  of  Tenderness,  in  general,  and  of  the  love  of  the 
sexes,  in  particular,  embraces  the  harmonies  of  nature — 
flowers,  animals,  streams,  mountains,  scenic  effects  of  every 
kind.  These  emotional  adjuncts  have  been  gradually  in- 
creasing and  accumulating,  and  have  been  raised  or 
heightened  by  their  continued  employment  in  the  sei'vice, 
till  they  have  acquired  an  independent  power,  and  repay 
their  origin  with  interest. 

Even  the  heavenly  bodies  are  not  exempted  ;  the  Moon 
being  in  more  especial  request.  There  is  apt  to  be  a  forced 
employment  of  these  cold  and  distant  bodies ;  yet  by 
iteration  the  wished-for  result  is  gained.  The  Seasons 
alone  yield  a  copious  fund  of  allusion,  especially  after 
having  been  exhaustively  worked  by  Thomson. 

CONDITIONS   OF   FEELING. 

1.  The  Aids  to  Emotional  Qualities  akeady  j];iven 
being  supposed,  the  requisites  special  to  Tender  Feeling 
are  little  else  than  the  general  conditions  applied  to  the 
case. 

As  with  Strength,  so  here  :  no  mere  profusion  of  the 
phraseology  and  imagery  of  Tender  feeling  will  succeed  with- 
out representative  force,  concreteness,  cumulation,  harmony, 
ideality,  originality  or  variety,  and  refining  arts. 

The  following  aids  deserve  special  attention  as  bearing 
on  the  quality  of  Feeling.  Their  exemplification  will  bo 
given  afterwards. 

(1)  Adequate  representation  of  the  subject  of  the 
emotion,  by  duly  selecting  the  essential  points,  and  omit- 
ting all  irrelevant  and  disturbing  particulars. 

(2)  Additional  heightening  circumstances,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, the  mental  virtues  of  a  beautiful  person.  To  increase 
the  impression  of  female  beauty,  we  should  not  introduce 
virtues  of  the  more  masculine  type,  even  though  these  may, 
in  themselves,  be  fitted  to  secui-e  admiration. 

(3)  Harmonious  circumstances  and  surroundings.  These 
will  be  most  abundantly  illustrated  in  connexion  with  the 
Erotic  form  of  the  tender  emotions. 

(4)  Subjective  delineation,  by  the  various  modes  akeady 


FAULTS   AND    FAILUEES.  131 

recounted  (p.  11).  The  importance  of  this  condition  will 
be  best  seen  under  Eeligion ;  more  stress  being  there 
laid  upon  it,  from  the  difficulties  attending  on  the  other 
conditions,  especially  the  first. 

2.  The  faults  most  liable  to  occur  in  connexion  with 
Feeling  are  a  further  illustration  of  its  requirements. 

(1)  Insipidity.  This  is  common  to  all  qualities,  and 
may  be  owing  to  general  inadequacy  of  the  language  used  ; 
but,  most  commonly,  it  comes  from  want  of  sufficient 
originality. 

(2)  Discords.  The  purity  of  the  instrument,  or,  in  other 
words,  the  absence  of  all  inharmonious  accompaniments, 
must  be  especially  kept  in  view. 

Discords  will  arise  not  only  from  the  introduction  of 
language  inconsistent  with  Feeling,  but  also  from  a  failure 
to  maintain  the  consistency  of  the  particular  feeling  in 
question. 

(3)  Extravagance  and  Overstraining :  that  is  to  say, 
greater  profusion  than  the  feeling  is  able  to  sustain.  There 
is  frequently  waste  of  power  upon  situations  of  an  exceptional 
kind,  as  in  the  tragedy  of  a  first  love,  which,  to  be  treated 
at  all,  demands  the  highest  power  of  genius  in  order  to 
redeem  its  hyperbolical  character. 

(4)  Maudlin.  This  is  a  name  for  the  most  characteristic 
abuse  of  Tender  feeling.  It  is  the  employment  of  it  in 
excess,  and  out  of  relation  to  the  object.  The  Ass  of  Sterne 
is  still  the  best-known  example  of  gross  disproportion  between 
the  language  of  feeling  and  its  occasion. 

The  assuaging  outburst  of  grief  under  pain,  is  the  extreme  form  of 
an  organic  process  whose  milder  modes  of  stimulation  are  associated 
with  the  tender  feeling  on  its  genial  side.  If  possible,  nothihg  should 
be  done  to  induce  the  spasmodic  violence  of  the  lachrymal  flow,  which 
is  a  mode  of  weakness  and  exhaustion  of  the  system.  The  modes  of 
refinement  of  the  grosser  passions  are  eminently  applicable  to  the 
moderating  of  the  tender  emotions,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  its  physical 
excesses. 

As  with  the  lachrymal  flow,  so  \vith  the  embrace ;  the  occasion 
should  be  adequate,  and  the  actuality  rare.  It  takes  a  considerable 
development  of  interest  to  make  these  outward  tokens  acceptable  in 
artistic  delineation. 

(5)  Confounding  of  Pathos  and  Strength.  The  cases 
where  these  come  together  without  mutual  injury  have 
been  adverted  to  already,  and  will  appear  again.  There 
may  be  rapid  alternation  of  the  two  without  discord. 


132  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

(6)  Excess  of  the  Horrible.  Pain,  as  one  of  the  exciting 
causes  of  tender  feeling,  in  order  to  be  effective  must  be 
kept  from  passing  into  pure  horror  and  repugnance.  This 
is  the  problem  that  arises  under  the  concluding  species  of 
Tenderness — Sorrow  or  Pathos  in  the  narrow  sense. 


FEELING   EXEMPLIFIED. 

The  Subjects  or  Classes  of  Tender  Feeling  have  been 
enumerated,  and  likewise  the  analyzed  Constituents  of 
Tenderness,  which  are  repeated  in  more  than  one  class. 
In  the  detailed  exemplification,  it  will  be  enough  to  follow 
the  order  of  the  classes,  regard  being  had  to  the  ultimate 
constituents  as  the  surest  guide  to  the  attainment  of  the 
desired  effects. 

EEOTIC  LITERATUEE. 

The  general  conditions  of  Tender  Feeling  are  appli- 
cable to  the  poetry  of  Love,  with  some  variations  in 
the  importance  attached  to  each. 

The  more  special  conditions  of  Erotic  feeling  in- 
clude (1)  the  interest  of  Plot,  and  (2)  the  various  means 
of  guarding  against  Extravagance  and  the  Maudlin. 

Harmony,  Originality,  Ideality,  are  all  employed  to 
heighten,  purify  and  refine  the  love  emotion.  It  is  never- 
theless liable,  by  its  hypei-bolical  nature,  to  repel  the 
sympathies  of  those  that  are  not  under  its  influence.  This 
difficulty  is  overcome  by  the  richness  of  the  composition,  by 
a  proper  degree  of  restraint,  by  bringing  the  passions 
through  the  ordeal  of  sufferings  and  trials,  and  by  the 
noble  behaviour  of  the  lovers  themselves. 

As  against  niaw/lin  especially,  all  these  arts  are  availo.ble. 
So,  also,  is  the  device  of  alternating  the  interest  and  remit- 
ting the  strain  by  other  passions,  especially  some  form  of 
malevolence.  Shakespeare  understood  the  value  of  ridicule 
and  humour  in  redeeming  or  palliating  the  excesses  of  the 
amorous  llame. 

The  means  available  for  the  poetic  expression  of  the 
sentiment  of  love  may  be  summed  up  as  follows : — 

(1)  As  in  all  other  cases,  we  must  put  in  the  foreground 
the  description  of  the  object.  This  includes,  first,  personal 
charms  depicted  by  proper  selection  of  essential  and  sugges- 


EROTIC   CONDITIONS.  133 

tive  particulars ;  and,  next,  reciprocation,  wlien  it  exists,  and 
all  the  circumstances  of  mental  and  moral  excellence  that 
unite  in  heightening  the  attractions  of  sex. 

(2)  Harmonious  surroundings  are  very  lai^gely  adopted  in 
love  poetry.  The  beauties  and  charms  of  the  outer  world 
— all  that  department  of  nature  interest  that  is  akin  to  affec- 
tion,— birds,  flowers,  streams,  trees,  the  scenery  of  repose 
and  quiescence,  and  even  the  heavenly  bodies — are  made  to 
reflect  the  feelings  of  the  entranced  lover. 

(3)  The  description  or  utterance  of  the  lover's  own  feel- 
ings constitutes  a  great  part  of  the  poetry  of  love.  The 
emotion  may  be  expressed  not  only  in  direct  forms  but  also 
by  the  vast  variety  of  effects  it  produces  on  the  thoughts, 
feelings  and  actions  of  the  lover.  Strong  expression,  being 
natural  to  the  emotion,  is  not  merely  tolerated  but  expected 
in  its  utterance  ;  and  this  may  be  increased  by  comparisons 
drawn  from  everything  that  is  intense  and  hyperbolical. 
Even  the  absence  of  a  reciprocated  affection  can  be  made  to 
attest  the  vehemence  of  the  one-sided  devotion. 

The  passionate  intensity  of  love,  following  the  laws  of  intense 
emotion,  has  many  consequences.  It  takes  away  self-control,  and 
urges  to  hazardous  deeds ;  emerging  sometimes  in  horrible  crimes, 
sometimes  in  heroic  devotion,  often  in  tragic  conclusions.  The  poetic 
representation  of  its  workings  carves  interest  out  of  the  consequences 
as  well  as  out  of  the  mere  intensity  of  the  feeling. 

To  rise  to  the  occasion,  the  poet  must  strike  out  imagery  both 
intense  and  original,  and  harmonize  it  with  the  genuine  amatory  senti- 
ment. These  demands  are  rarely  complied  with  in  the  highest  degree. 
As  the  passion  is  irrational  and  often  ruinous,  its  exaggerations  are 
justified  only  by  the  utmost  poetic  charms. 

(4)  The  interest  of  Plot. 

No  other  variety  of  tender  emotion  is  so  well  suited  to 
give  the  fascination  of  Plot :  hence  one  reason  for  the  adop- 
tion of  Sexual  Love  as  the  main  theme  in  the  interest  of 
Prose  Fiction.  The  parental  feeling  may  be  as  strong  by 
nature,  but  it  does  not  readily  fall  into  a  narrative  plot,  like 
a  courtship. 

The  main  points  of  interest  and  importance  in  Erotic 
Literature  may  now  be  illustrated  by  a  review  of  some  of  its 
leading  instances. 

To  begin  with  the  Ancients. 

In  ancient  literature,  the  tender  sentiment  between  the 
sexes  had  not  yet  reached  the  highest  pitch.     The  passion, 


134  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

however,  has  never  heen  wanting  in  the  human  race :  it 
appears  in  the  earhest  poetry,  and,  so  far  as  recognized, 
receives  poetic  treatment.  But  its  Hterary  interest  through- 
out the  ancient  world  ranked  at  a  much  lower  figure  than 
the  interest  of  war.  Although  the  extraordinary  charms  of 
Helen  are  set  dowm  as  the  motive  of  the  great  Trojan  war, 
she  seldom  appears  in  person ;  and  there  are  no  love  scenes 
detailed,  the  art  of  the  poet  being  expended  on  the  warlike 
incidents  of  the  siege. 

Nevertheless,  a  beginning  is  made  in  the  expression  of 
feminine  attractions.  Both  the  strong  and  the  weak  points 
of  erotic  description  are  shown  in  the  earliest  poetry  of 
Greece. 

The  fascination  of  Helen  turned  entirely  on  her  personal 
beauty,  and  not  on  her  conduct ;  for  this  was  objectionable, 
with  only  the  redeeming  qualities  of  kindliness  and  self-re- 
proach. Her  person  is  not  described ;  but  the  imagination 
of  the  sculptor  and  of  the  painter,  in  after-times,  helped  the 
Greeks  to  conceive  a  bodily  representation  suited  to  her 
supposed  charms.  The  Homeric  art  consists  in  setting 
foi'th  the  wonderful  impression  that  she  made  wherever  slie 
showed  herself.  The  most  notable  is  the  testimony  of  the 
elders  of  Troy  {Iliad,  Book  III.),  who,  for  a  moment,  excused 
the  quarrel  and  the  war  on  her  account,  as  they  gazed  on 
her  person  while  she  passed  by. 

This  mode  of  delineating  beauty  by  the  impression 
made  on  beholders  is  not  equal  in  effect  to  a  fairly  adequate 
description  of  the  beautiful  personality  itself.  By  enormous 
exaggeration  and  iteration,  it  excites  at  last  in  our  minds  a 
vague  estimate  of  something  in  the  highest  degree  wonder- 
ful, but  can  never  take  the  same  hold  of  our  imagination  as 
an  actual  picture.  The  expressions  used  by  Homer  are 
intended  to  set  in  motion  the  erotic  fancy  of  mankind,  as 
when  he  tells  us  that  she  '  had  charms  to  soothe  the  soul 
and  drown  the  memory  of  the  saddest  things':  that  she  had 
'  beauty  such  as  never  woman  wox'e '. 

Postponing  the  pathetic  domestic  scene  of  the  parting 
of  Hector  and  Andromache,  we  have  to  refer  for  the  best 
examples  of  Homer's  treatment  of  the  love  affection  to  the 
Oili/tisfi/.  This  poem  being  occupied  with  adventures  and 
not  with  warlike  operations,  except  on  a  very  small  scale, 
finds  room  for  the  romance  of  the  affections.  Most  notable 
of  all  the  incidents  of  this  kind  is  the  episode  of  Nausicaa, 


EROTIC  TREATMENT  IN  HOMER.  135 

in  the  Sixth  Book.  Ulysses,  being  cast  ashore  in  the  country 
of  the  Phseacians,  is  destitute  of  food  and  raiment.  He 
encounters  the  royal  princess  with  her  maidens,  who  are 
there  by  divine  direction  to  meet  him.  His  promptitude 
and  power  of  speech  are  called  into  play,  as  he  addresses 
the  princess  in  terms  of  the  most  tasteful  and  consummate 
flattery ;  giving  to  all  time  a  model  of  this  prime  art  of  love- 
making  : — 

"  I  supplicate  thee,  0  queen,  whether  thou  art  a  goddess 
or  a  mortal !  If  indeed  thou  art  a  goddess  of  them  that 
keep  the  wide  heaven ;  to  Artemis,  then,  the  daughter  of 
great  Zeus,  I  mainly  liken  thee,  for  beauty  and  statux^e  and 
shapeliness.  But  if  thou  art  one  of  the  daughters  of  men 
who  dwell  on  earth,  thrice  blessed  are  thy  father  and  thy 
lady  mother,  and  thrice  blessed  thy  brethren.  Surely  their 
souls  ever  glow  with  gladness  for  thy  sake,  each  time  they  see 
thee  entering  the  dance,  so  fair  a  flower  of  maidens.  But 
he  is  of  heart  the  most  blessed  beyond  all  other  who  shall  pre- 
vail with  gifts  of  wooing,  and  lead  thee  to  his  home.  Never 
have  mine  eyes  beheld  such  an  one  among  mortals,  neither 
man  nor  woman ;  great  awe  comes  upon  me  as  I  look  on 
thee." 

Nausicaa  responds,  on  her  part,  with  equal  art  and 
Belf-restraint ;  she  gives  the  hero  every  encouragement  to 
sue  for  her  hand  ;  yet  is  reconciled  to  her  fate  in  not  being 
successful.  The  approaches  to  love  by  mutual  compliment 
could  hardly  be  better  conceived  or  expressed. 

The  previous  adventure  of  Ulysses  in  the  island  of 
Calypso,  who  also  was  love-smitten,  and  had  the  power  to 
detain  him,  until  divine  interference  ordered  his  release,  is 
redeemed  by  the  fine  generosity  of  the  amorous  goddess  in 
equipping  him  for  his  departure ;  while  he,  on  his  side, 
maintains  a  passive  resistance  to  all  her  charms,  in  his 
constancy  towards  Penelope. 

The  hero's  next  love-making  is  with  Circe,  the  en- 
chantress, whom  he  first  subdues,  and  then  consents  to  be 
her  lover,  for  a  whole  year.  The  poet's  genius  does  not 
adorn  this  connexion,  or  provide  an  additional  example  of 
erotic  treatment. 

While  Homer  supplied  a  few  indications  of  erotic  art, 
the  great  Tragedians  almost  entirely  passed  it  over. 
Female  characters  they  had — notably  Antigone  ;  but  these 
did  not  appear  in  the  love  relationships  of  the  sexes  so 


136  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

much  as  in  the  dreadful  passions  of  strife  and  hatred.  The 
beginning  of  the  erotic  development  of  Greek  poetry  is  seen 
in  the  Lyric  field ;  and  the  first  great  example  is  the 
renowned  Sappho.  Further  on,  in  the  Idyllists,  and  in  the 
Anthology,  the  delicate  refinements  of  amatory  expression 
are  cultivated  to  the  utmost.  Thus  Greek  poetry,  as  a 
whole,  supplied  a  copious  fund  of  erotic  diction,  which  was 
extended  by  the  Eoman  poets,  and  handed  down  to  modern 
times. 

The  Lyric  poets  are  w^anting  in  story  or  plot,  and  trust 
to  energy  of  expression,  elevation  of  figure  and  melodious 
verse.  In  them,  intensity  is  the  characteristic  :  they  show 
love  in  its  aspect  of  passionate  fury,  and  they  must  be 
judged  by  the  principles  applicable  to  such  compositions. 

The  style  and  genius  of  Sappho  have  to  be  gathered 
from  her  scanty  remains,  and  from  her  influence  on  later 
poets.  The  hymn  to  Venus  acquires  intensity  by  the  form 
of  supplication,  and  by  the  elevation  of  the  language.  The 
epithets  applied  to  Venus,  in  their  first  freshness,  are  grand, 
and  yet  not  out  of  keeping  with  tender  passion. 

Venus,  bright  goddess  of  the  skies, 
To  whom  unnumber'd  temples  rise, 
Jove's  daughter  fair,  whose  wily  arts 
Delude  fond  lovers  of  their  hearts  ; 
O  !  listen  gracious  to  my  prayer, 
And  free  my  mind  from  anxious  caro. 

The  iteration  of  the  last  stanza  serves  to  enforce  the 
intensity  of  feeling. 

Once  more,  0  Venus !  hear  my  prayer, 
And  ease  my  mind  of  anxious  care  ; 
Again  vouchsafe  to  be  my  guest, 
And  calm  this  tempest  in  my  breast  I 

The  only  other  complete  Ode  of  Sappho  known  to  us  is 
one  preserved  by  Longinus  as  an  example  of  the  very  general 
quality  of  apt  selection  and  combination  of  circumstances. 
It  is  an  accumulation  of  the  miseries  of  disappointed  passion, 
and  is  celebrated  for  its  accuracy  of  delineation. 

Our  interest  in  love  scenes,  as  already  observed,  extends 
to  the  pains  of  thwarted  love.  One  merit  of  such  descrip- 
tions is,  that  they  be  truthful ;  for  although  we  may  accept 
the  ideal  in  bliss,  we  do  not  desire  misery  to  be  exaggerated. 
In  Eoniance,  we  are  usually  requited  by  a  happy  conclusion. 

The  thoroughly  sustained  intensity  as  well  as  truthful- 


SAPPHO.  137 

ness   of   Sappho's   description   satisfies  us   that   she  is   in 
earuest_,  which  is  itself  a  great  charm. 

Blest  as  the  immortal  gods  is  he, 
The  youth  who  fondly  sits  by  thee, 
And  hears,  and  sees  thee  all  the  while 
Softly  speak  and  sweetly  smile. 

'Twas  this  depriv'd  my  soul  of  rest. 
And  rais'd  such  tumults  in  my  breast ; 
For  while  I  gaz'd,  in  transport  tost. 
My  breath  was  gone,  my  voice  was  lost. 

My  bosom  glow'd  ;  the  subtile  flame 
Ran  quick  through  all  my  vital  frame  ; 
O'er  my  dim  eyes  a  darkness  hung  ; 
My  ears  with  hollow  murmurs  rung. 

In  dewy  damps  my  limbs  were  chill'd; 
My  blood  with  gentle  horrors  thrill'd 
My  feeble  pulse  forgot  to  play, 
I  fainted,  sunk,  and  died  away. 

Sappho's  contemporary,  Anacreon,  was  a  gi*eat  erotic 
genius  m  a  different  style.  The  characteristics  of  his  style 
are  usually  given  as  simplicity,  grace,  melody,  with  an 
originality  that  made  a  fresh  departure  in  literature. 

Tha  poetized  delineation  of  personal  beauty  was  greatly 
developed  by  Anacreon.  See  the  companion  pictures  in  the 
two  odes — one  describing  his  mistress,  the  other  addressed 
to  Bathyllus. 

Again,  the  joys  of  love,  usually  coupled  with  wine,  are 
portrayed  with  luxurious  arts  of  language  ;  but,  in  this 
portraiture,  the  lower  aspects  of  the  subject  are  chiefly 
prominent. 

He  is  also  a  master  of  the  fancied  adventures  of  the  love 
deity  Venus  and  her  child  Cupid,  so  largely  employed  in 
depicting  the  incursions  of  love. 

He  maintains  a  perpetual  protest  against  the  burden  of 
the  Epic  poets — War. 

The  Tragedians,  as  already  noticed,  systematically  ex- 
cluded the  Love  Passion ;  yet  Sophocles,  in  one  short 
passage  in  the  Antigone,  showed  his  capability  of  working  up 
a  delineation  of  its  power.  We  need  to  pass  on  to  the 
Idyllists  of  the  third  century  B.C.  to  obtain  the  further 
development  of  erotic  poetry.  Partly  in  Theocritus,  the 
founder  of  the  Bucolic  idylls,  and  still  more  in  Bion,  have 
we  the  expression  of  the  sexual  passion  in  its  full  strength. 
Theocritus  supplies  the  picture  of  a  Syracusan  lady  deserted 


133  FEELING-EXEMPLIFICATION. 

by  her  lover,  and  details  the  fury  of  her  revenge  in  terms  of 
tragic  exaggeration  :  she  resorts  to  magic  rites,  she  seeks 
the  aid  of  poison,  and  indulges  in  all  the  excesses  of  an 
infuriated  woman. 

Bion  composed  delicately  finished  love-songs,  and,  in  one, 
he  rises  to  the  tragic  height,  in  setting  forth  the  lamentation 
of  A'enus  for  the  slain  Adonis  ;  a  couple  whose  love  and 
misfortunes  often  reappear  in  erotic  poetry. 

Next  to  the  Idyllists,  we  have  to  search  the  Greek  An- 
thology at  large  for  love  embodiments.  Made  up  of  short 
poems,  called  Epigrams,  it  embraces  many  themes  ;  the 
Amatory  being  but  one  department.  The  Anthology  ranges 
through  all  the  history  of  Greek  literature  down  to  its 
decadence.  The  greatest  of  the  poets  of  the  Amatory 
series  is  Meleager,  i'n  the  first  century  B.C.  His  poem  in 
praise  of  Heliodora  is  an  early  example  of  the  use  of  flowers 
to  illustrate  love.  The  following  is  Goldwin  Smith's  trans- 
lation, quoted  by  Symonds  : — 

I'll  twine  white  violets,  and  the  myrtle  green ; 
Narcissus  will  I  twine,  and  lilies  sheen  ; 
I'll  twine  sweet  crocus,  and  the  hyacinth  blue  ; 
And  last  I'll  twine  the  rose,  love's  token  true  : 
That  all  may  form  a  wreath  of  beauty,  meet 
To  deck  my  Heliodora's  tresses  sweet. 

Another  poet  constructs  a  retreat  for  lovers  under  the 
spreading  branches  of  a  plane.  The  translation,  by  VV. 
Shepherd,  runs  thus  : — 

Wide  spreading  plane-tree,  whose  thick  branches  meet 

To  form  for  lovers  an  obscure  retreat. 

Whilst  with  thy  foliage  closely  intertwine 

The  curling  tendrils  of  the  clustering  vine, 

Still  mayst  thou  flourish,  in  perennial  green, 

To  shade  the  votaries  of  the  Paphian  quean. 

The  later  Anthology  brings  us  to  the  Anacreontic  Odes, 
which  have  a  definite  amatory  character,  only  partially 
derived  from  the  real  Anacreon,  the  contemporary  of  Sappho. 
Their  date  was  subsequent  to  the  gi-eat  age  of  Eoman 
Literature,  which  had  largely  included  amatory  subjects 
in  its  sphere.  Wanting  in  originality,  for  their  time,  they 
are  yet  illustrative  of  particular  mannerisms  in  the  erotic 
style. 

The  opening  poetry  of  the  Romans  is  made  up  of  Tragedy 
and  Comedy  ;  tbe  last  represented  by  Plautus  and  Terence, 
imitators  of  the  Greek  comedians,  such  as  Menander.    Love 


THE   LATIN    POETS.  139 

is  introduced  only  to  prepare  for  the  production  of  humour. 
The  love  passions  of  the  young  are  a  mainspring  of  comic 
situations,  but  they  are  assumed  rather  than  developed. 

The  great  poem  of  Lucretius,  without  dwelling  on  the 
erotic  passion,  abounds  in  effects  of  tenderness.  The  stanza 
in  Gray's  '  Elegy/  '  For  them  no  more  the  blazing  hearth 
shall  burn,'  is  almost  literally  borrowed  from  him. 

The  first  erotic  poet  of  Eome  was  Catullus,  and  with  him 
are  classed  three  others — Tibullus,  Propertius,  Ovid  ;  while 
Virgil  and  Horace  contributed  to  enrich  the  amatory  strain 
of  diction. 

Those  of  the  poets  that  made  love  their  main  theme — as 
Catullus,  Tibullus,  Ovid — all  labour  under  the  common 
defect,  that  they  proceeded  upon  free  love,  or  perfectly  pro- 
miscuous attachments,  including  direct  reference  to  sensual 
pleasure.  Hence  their  diction,  although  often  felicitous  for 
its  own  end,  is  not  a  model  for  the  poet  of  the  present  time. 

The  genius  of  Virgil,  in  the  JEnenl,  has  depicted  a  few 
love  incidents  with  his  characteristic  grace  and  power.  The 
splendid  delineation  of  Dido's  love  for  ^neas  follows  Sappho 
in  illustrating  the  unrest  of  love.  Her  fury  and  despair  at 
being  deserted  are  tragical  in  the  extreme.  The  pictures  in 
both  poets  are  heartrending,  and  have  nothing  in  our  eyes 
to  redeem  them  but  the  poetical  dress.  In  Virgil's  time,  the 
desertion  was  looked  at  with  indifference  :  to  us,  it  is  a 
serious  flaw  in  the  character  of  the  hero,  and  cannot  be 
condoned  by  his  usual  reference  to  celestial  guidance. 

A  highly-wrought  delineation  of  feminine  beauty,  not 
ending  in  a  love-alliance,  is  furnished  in  the  picture  of 
Camilla  the  Volscian  huntress,  of  the  Diana  type.  The 
Latin  princess,  Lavinia,  is  won  by  iEneas  at  the  termination 
of  the  story — without  courtship. 

A  considerable  number  of  the  poems  of  Horace  deal  with 
love  as  their  subject.  They  are  characterized  by  all  his 
usual  perfection  of  poetic  form ;  but  as  to  their  matter,  it 
is  only  the  lighter  aspects  of  love  that  are  usually  handled. 
The  charms  of  the  fair  one  and  the  pleasures  of  her 
society  are  often  described,  as  well  as  the  pains  of  unre- 
quited love,  but  without  the  simplicity  and  intensity  that 
are  natural  to  love  in  its  deeper  forms.  They  have  not  the 
characteristics  of  sincerity  and  earnestness,  such  as  were 
noted  in  Sappho ;  their  prominent  features  are  wit  and 
elegance,  without  passion. 


140  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  decadence  of  Greek  literature  is  illustrated  by  one 
remarkable  love-poem — Hero  and  Leander.  The  pathetic 
incident  is  known  to  Virgil  {Georg.  III.  258) ;  the  working 
out  is  by  MusoBUs,  a  litttraieur  of  the  fifth  century  a.d.  As 
a  tale  of  the  first-sight  fascination  of  a  beautiful  pair, 
followed  by  love  consummation  under  extraordinary  diffi- 
culties, and  ending  fatally  to  both,  it  is  unique,  and  highly 
wrought  at  every  point.  It  is  the  first  great  example  of 
the  often  repeated  tragedy  of  young  lovers, — the  Eomeo  and 
Juliet  of  the  classical  world.  The  Greek  version  is  ex- 
panded by  Marlowe,  with  the  tenderness  peculiar  to  his 
treatment  of  the  love  passion.  In  the  original,  most  of  the 
arts  of  diction  accumulated  in  the  twelve  hundred  years  of 
Greek  poetry  may  be  found  exemplified. 

The  personal  charms  of  the  lovers  are  given  with  touches 
of  high  art.     Thus  Hero — 

Her  lovely  cheeks  a  pure  vermilion  shed, 

Like  roses  beautifully  streak'd  with  red  : 

A  flowery  mead  her  well-turn'd  limbs  disclose, 

Fraught  with  the  blushmg  beauties  of  the  rose  ; 

But  when  she  moved,  in  radiant  mantle  dress'd, 

Flowers  half  unvcil'd  adom'd  her  flowing  vest. 

And  numerous  graces  wanton'd  on  her  breast. 

The  ancient  sages  made  a  false  decree, 

Who  said,  the  Graces  were  no  more  than  three  : 

When  Hero  smiles,  a  thousand  graces  rise, 

Sjjort  on  her  cheek,  and  revel  in  her  eyes. 

The  poet  does  not  neglect  the  powerful  aid  of  the  uni- 
versal admiration,  before  introducing  her  destined  lover — 

The  wondering  crowds  the  radiant  nymph  admire, 

And  every  bosom  lundles  with  desire  ; 

Eager  each  longs,  transported  with  her  charms, 

To  clasp  the  lovely  virgin  in  his  arms ; 

Where'er  she  turns,  their  eyes,  their  thoughts  pursue, 

They  sigh,  and  send  their  souls  at  every  view. 

Then  comes  the  real  lover — 

But  when  Leander  saw  the  blooming  fair, 
Love  seized  his  soul  instead  of  diunb  despair. 

The  play  of  his  passion,  and  the  counter  play  of  Hero's, 
are  given  in  well-sustained  luxury  of  phrase  ;  and  after  a 
sufficient  dialogue  of  wooing  and  parrying  the  fair  one  is 
gained  :  and,  with  fruition,  the  dreadful  difficulties  of  the 
situation  are  unfolded,  with  its  tragic  catastrophe. 

The  description  of  the  storm,  in  the  fatal  night,  attains 
the  pitch  of  sublimity  mingled  with  terror. 


HERO   AND   LEANDEB.  141 

Nearly  every  device  suited  to  such  a  tale  is  exemplified 
to  the  full.  The  extravagance  of  the  passion  is  redeemed  by 
the  devotedness  of  the  pair,  and  their  speedy  destruction; 
while  the  language  is  throughout  equal  to  the  occasion. 
There  is  all  the  seriousness  of  Sappho,  notwithstanding  the 
profuse  decoration  growing  out  of  the  loug-continued  culti- 
vation of  poetic  style. 

The  descriptive  art  embraces  personal  beauty,  with 
the  addition  of  reciprocal  attachment  ;  and  the  intensity  of 
the  lovers'  own  feelings,  heightened  by  the  sympathy  of 
beholders.  There  is  no  additional  excellence  of  character 
depicted,  such  as  to  give  securities  for  the  permanence  of 
their  mutual  flame ;  this  did  not  enter  into  the  early 
romance  of  love.  At  the  same  time,  the  sacredness  of  the 
marriage  bond  is  respected,  although  the  lovers  take  the  law 
into  their  own  hands. 

Marlowe  has  improved  upon  the  poem  in  the  ways  suited 
to  his  own  genius.  His  description  of  Hero's  beauty  is 
more  elaborately  minute ;  every  item  of  her  dress  being 
turned  to  account.  The  temple  of  Venus,  where  Leander 
was  love-smitten,  is  also  described  with  gorgeous  and  sug- 
gestive minuteness,  so  as  to  harmonize  with  the  great 
occasion :  this  is  omitted  in  the  original.  The  dialogue  of 
the  courtship  is  re-shaped,  while  proceeding  in  the  same 
lines  as  in  Musseus. 

The  transition  to  modern  literature  brought  certain 
changes  of  view  which  altered  the  forms  of  ei-otic  delinea- 
tion, while  there  was  still  a  very  large  infusion  of  the 
classical  elements.  The  influence  of  the  Christian  religion 
was  opposed  to  the  laxity  of  manners  in  the  Pagan  world  ; 
and  the  age  of  chivalry  and  knight  errantry  effected  a  com- 
promise or  union  of  the  two  greatest  sources  of  human  in- 
terest— war  and  love.  The  knight-errant,  moved  by  devo- 
tion to  some  fair  one,  went  out  on  a  series  of  adventures  to 
rescue  the  oppressed  and  assist  the  weak,  having  at  the  same 
time  the  pleasure  of  slaying  or  discomfiting  his  foes. 
Chivalry  established  the  lofty  ideal  of  gentleness,  purity  or 
chastity,  truth,  and  protectorship.  The  literature  of  Pro- 
vence gave  birth  to  the  troubadours,  who  were  pre-eminently 
the  poets  of  love.  The  troiweres,  whose  subjects  were  more 
various,  were  animated  by  the  chivalrous  spirit.  Subse- 
quent French  literature  contributed  to  the  erotic  theme. 


142  FEELIKG — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  great  poets  that  made  the  earhest  literary  fame  of 
Italy,  were  all  more  or  less  insphed  by  the  love  sentiment, 
and  gave  it  embodiment — Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Boccaccio. 
The  age  of  the  Rpuaissance  culminated  in  Ariosto  and  Tasso. 

In  England,  Chaucer,  after  studying  French  and  Italian 
models,  developed  his  own  peculiar  style,  and  gave  inimi- 
table examples  of  erotic  treatment.  Spenser  worked  the 
theme  in  a  more  idealized  and  elevated  form ;  takign 
full  advantage  of  both  aspects  of  chivalry, — the  malign 
pleasm-e  of  routing  enemies,  and  the  devotion  of  love  and 
protectorship. 

Shakespeare  makes  plentiful  use  of  the  love  passion 
as  an  ingredient  in  his  plots  ;  but  has  not  many  plays 
turning  w^holly  upon  it :  and  therefore  does  not  often  tax 
his  genius  to  represent  its  highest  fury. 

The  garden  scene  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  has  abundance 
of  intensity  in  his  best  manner.  At  the  outset,  Eomeo 
bursts  forth  in  hyperbolical  references  to  the  rising  sun, 
with  a  number  of  other  celestial  comparisons,  all  very  grand 
in  themselves,  but  not  specially  adapted  to  suggest  or  to 
support  tender  feeling. 

Juliet  appears  : — 

It  is  my  lady ;  0,  it  is  my  love  ; 

O,  that  she  knew  she  were  ! 

She  speaks,  yet  she  says  nothing  :  what  of  that  ? 

He  then  falls  into  a  hyperbolical  strain  on  her  beauty,  still 
making  large  use  of  the  heavens  and  the  stars ;  and  ending 
with  the  wish  to  be  a  glove  on  her  hand  to  touch  her  cheek. 
An  exclamation  drops  from  her — '  Ah  me  !  '  He  opens  out 
again  with  his  celestial  imagery,  and  composes  by  means  of 
it  a  splendid  eulogium  on  her  beauty. 

She  speaks  again,  still  unaware  that  he  is  listening  : — 

0  Romeo,  Romeo,  wherefore  art  thou  Romeo  ? 

She  is  bent  on  business;  her  mind  is  occupied  with  the  fatal 
feud  between  the  families  : — 

'Tis  but  thy  name  that  is  my  enemy  ; — 
Thou  art  thyself,  though  not  a  Montague. 
Wliat's  Montague  ?  it  is  nor  hand,  nor  foot, 
Nor  arm,  nor  face,  nor  any  other  part 
Belonging  to  a  man.     0,  be  some  other  name  1 


BOMEO   AND   JULIET.  143 

What's  in  a  name  ?  that  which  we  call  a  rose, 
By  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet ; 
So  Romeo  would,  were  he  not  Romeo  call'd, 
Retain  that  dear  perfection  which  he  owes, 
Without  that  title. 

She  then  plays  upon  the  topic  of  the  name,  but  without 
beconaing  needlessly  fantastical  : — 

Romeo,  doff  thy  name  ; 
And  for  that  name,  which  is  no  part  of  thee, 
Take  all  myself. 

Her  mind  is  made  up  ;  and  her  love-making  consists  in 
emphatically  saying  so.  Eomeo  discovers  himself,  and  gives 
a  new  turn  to  both  their  thoughts.  After  mutual  recogni- 
tion, Juliet  again  recurs  to  the  peril  of  their  situation,  while 
Komeo  is  high-vaunting  and  sanguine. 

Alack  !  there  lies  more  peril  in  thine  eye 

Than  twenty  of  their  swords ;  look  then  but  sweet 

And  I  am  proof  against  their  enmity. 

And  again,  with,  his  usual  hyperboles  : — 

I  am  no  pilot ;  yet,  wert  thou  as  far 

As  that  vast  shore  wash'd  with  the  furthest  sea, 

I  would  adventure  for  such  merchandise. 

Then  comes  Juliet's  clenching  speech  : — 

But  farewell  compliment ! 
Dost  thou  love  me  ?     I  know  thou  wilt  say — Ay ; 
And  I  will  take  thy  word  ;  yet,  if  thou  swear'st, 
Thou  may'st  prove  false  ;  at  lovers'  perjuries, 
They  say,  Jove  laughs.     O,  gentle  Romeo, 
If  thou  dost  love,  pronounce  it  faithfully  : 
Or  if  thou  think'st  I  am  too  quickly  won, 
I'll  frown,  and  be  perverse,  and  say  thee  nay. 
So  thou  wilt  woo ;  but,  else,  not  for  the  world. 
In  truth,  fair  Montague,  I  am  too  fond ; 
And  therefore  thou  may'st  think  my  haviour  light : 
But  trust  me,  gentleman.  I'll  prove  more  true 
Than  those  that  have  more  cunning  to  be  strange. 
I  should  have  been  more  strange,  I  must  confess. 
But  that  thou  over-heard'st,  ere  I  was  ware, 
ily  true  love's  passion  :  therefore  pardon  nie  ; 
And  not  impute  this  yielding  to  light  love. 
Which  the  dark  night  hath  so  discovered. 

The  whole  speech  bears  the  stamp  of  sincerity  and 
depth  of  feeling;  there  are  no  farfetched  plays  of  fancy;  all 
is  direct,  strong  and  plainly-worded.  Nevertheless,  Komeo 
does  not  follow  suit ;  he  is-  back  at  his  celestial  similes  : — 


144  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

LaJly,  by  yonder  blessed  moon  I  swear 
That  tips  with  silver  all  the  fruit-tree  tops. 

Juliet  checks  him,  and  retorts  the  changeableness  of  his 
favourite  moon.  She  further  advises  him  against  swearing ; 
but,  if  he  must,  then  to  swear  by  himself — 

Which  is  the  god  of  my  idolatry — 

She  now  falls  back  upon  the  seriousness  of  the  situa- 
tion : — 

Although  I  joy  in  thee, 
I  have  no  joy  of  this  contract  to-night ; 
It  is  too  rash,  too  unadvised,  too  sudden. 

This  is  direct  enough  ;  but  she  too  must  now  indulge  in 
similes,  although  not  with  Borneo's  expansiveness.  She 
very  soon  reverts  to  business  : — 

Too  like  the  lightning,  which  doth  cease  to  be, 
Ere  one  can  say — It  lightens. 

The  simile  is  not  so  apt  as  to  be  inevitable  or  irresistible  : 
it  is  simply  the  poet's  necessity  of  providing  figurative 
material.     The  same  may  be  said  of  her  next  comparison  : — 

This  bud  of  love,  by  summer's  ripening  breath. 
May  prove  a  beauteous  flower  when  next  we  meet. 

She  now  drops  the  search  for  figures,  and  is  more 
successful  when  using  plain  and  homely  language,  in  keep- 
ing with  her  state  : — 

Good  night,  good  night !  as  sweet  repose  and  rest 
Come  to  thy  heart,  as  that  within  my  breast. 

This  is  the  language  of  feeling,  and  yet  not  either  original 
or  far-fetched. 

The  two  still  continue  the  parley,  and  Juliet  again 
reiterates  her  affection,  by  the  help  of  new  hyperbolical 
comparisons  : — 

My  bounty  is  as  boimdlcss  as  the  sea, 
My  love  as  deep :  the  more  I  give  to  thee 
The  more  I  have,  for  both  are  infinite. 

This  is  too  close  an  imitation  of  Eomeo,  and  is  by  no 
means  impressive  or  convincing.  Nevertheless,  taken  as  a 
whole,  the  genuine  ring  of  emotion  accompanies  her 
speeches  far  more  than  her  lover's. 

Our  great  poets,  with  few  exceptions,  have  cultivated 


EROTIC   EXAMPLES — ANACREON.  145 

the  same  field  :  while  the  creation  of  prose  romance  has 
bestowed  upon  it  an  ever-increasing  expansion. 

The  literature  of  every  civilized  or  half-civilized  nation 
has  embraced  the  arts  and  circumstances  of  love-making, 
and  certain  recurring  devices  may  be  traced  throughout ; 
while  the  degree  of  perfection  attained  necessarily  varies 
with  the  genius  of  each  people.  Arabia,  Persia,  India, 
China,  Japan,  afford  contributions  to  display  the  passion 
ahke  in  its  happy  and  its  unhappy  issues. 

The  most  characteristic  form  of  erotic  composition  is  the 
growth  of  the  sexual  passion  in  its  first  outburst  of  youthful 
intensity ;  the  consummation  being  the  marriage  union. 
But  although  this  consummation  quenches  the  flame  of  un- 
gratified  desire,  it  still  admits  of  a  high  order  of  amatory 
feeling;  and  this  too  receives  the  occasional  attention  of  the 
poet.  It  appears  both  in  the  lUad  and  in  the  Odyssey  ;  but 
was  not  often  celebrated  in  the  ancient  world. 

The  remaining  illustrations  will  be  chiefly  cast  into  a 
systematic  array,  with  a  view  of  indicating  the  causes 
leading  to  success  or  to  failure  in  this  great  emotional 
quality. 

The  authors  of  the  Anacreontic  Odes  had  before  them 
the  whole  compass  of  classic  poetry,  Greek  and  Eoman. 
For  an  example  of  personal  description  we  can  refer  to  the 
companion  Odes,  16  and  17,  the  one  on  feminine,  and  the 
other  on  masculine  beauty.  The  whole  of  Anacreon  has 
been  translated  by  Moore,  with  considerable  variations  to 
suit  his  own  ideas  of  efi'ect.  "We  shall  quote  a  portion 
of  the  translation  of  Ode  16;  and  a  comparison  with  the 
original  mmU  be  further  illustrative  of  the  arts  of  personal 
description. 

The  method  of  proceeding,  from  the  hair  downwards  in 
order,  shows  a  desire  to  present  a  suggestive  and  cohering 
picture  of  the  highest  beauty.  The  figurative  accompani- 
ments add  to  the  impression  without  destroying  the  con- 
tinuity of  the  impression. 

Paint  her  jetty  ringlets  straying, 
Silky  twine  in  tendrils  playing  ; 
And  if  painting  hath  the  skill 
To  make  the  spicy  balm  distil, 
Let  every  little  lock  exhale 
A  sigh  of  perfume  on  the  gale. 


146  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

T^e  whole  passage  runs  literally  thus :  *  Sketch  me 
first  tresses  both  soft  and  glossy ;  and  if  the  wax  can  do  it, 
sketch  them  also  exhaling  perfume'.  We  can  judge  how 
far  Moore's  additions  are  improvements. 

The  poet  passes  to  the  brow,  led  by  the  contiguity  to 
the  tresses  : — 

Where  her  tresses  curly  flow 
Darkles  o'er  the  brow  of  snow, 
Let  her  forehead  beain  to  Ught, 
Burnished  as  the  ivory  bright. 

Anacreon  has  simply   'ivory  forehead'.      The   conflict   of 
comparisons  between  snow  and  ivory  is  Moore's. 
The  next  point  is  the  eyebrows  : — 

Let  her  eyebrows  sweetly  rise 
In  jetty  arches  o'er  her  eyes, 
Gently  in  a  crescent  gliding, 
Just  commingling — just  dividing. 

'Sweetly,'  'gliding,'  are  added  by  the  translator:  the 
point  expressed  in  the  original  is  that  the  black  arches  of 
her  eyebrows  should  be  shown  as  not  altogether  united,  yet 
imperceptibly  meeting.  (In  the  East  it  is  still  a  beauty  to 
have  united  eyebrows.)  Moore's  additions  are  a  mere  excess 
of  figures,  which,  though  not  clashing,  are  not  suggestive  of 
a  higher  type  of  beauty,  and  are  therefore  a  waste  of  power. 

The  poet,  in  passing  to  the  eyes,  feels  the  necessity  of 
rising  to  his  utmost  strain.  They  receive  six  lines  in 
Moore:  four  in  Anacreon.  First,  their  'lightning':  then 
'the  azure  ray  of  Minerva,'  and  '  the  liquid  tire  of  Venus'. 
The  combination  is  somewhat  vague,  but  the  resulting 
impression  is  considerable. 

Moore  again  fails  to  catch  the  points.  The  words  in 
Anacreon  run  thus :  '  And  now  for  the  eyes,  make  them 
truly  of  fire  [not  lit/htni?};/],  at  once  gleaming  like  Athene's 
and  languishing  [or  liquid]  like  Cythera's'.  The  reference 
is  to  the  statues  of  the  goddesses.  Those  of  Athene  were 
made  with  light  gleaming  gems,  while  those  of  Aphrodite 
were  made  '  languishing '  by  a  slight  drawing  up  of  the 
lower  eyelid. 

O'er  her  nose  and  cheek  be  shed, 
Flushing  wliito  and  niellow'd  rod, 
Gradual  tints — as  when  there  glows 
lu  suowy  milk  the  bashful  rose. 


BUCKIilNG's    BKIDE.  117 

'  Nose '  and  '  cheek '  are  given  simply  as  '  roses  mixed  with 
milk ' ;  in  its  simplicity  a  more  effective  combination. 

Then  her  lips,  so  rich  in  hlisses, 
Sweet  petitioner  for  kisses, 
Pouting  nest  of  bland  persuasion, 
Ripely  suing  Love's  invasion. 

In  Anacreon  thus :  '  Draw  the  lip  as  it  were  that  of  Peitho 
[the  goddess  of  Persuasion  and  handmaid  of  Aphrodite] 
inviting  a  kiss '.  The  redoubling  of  the  thought  is  Moore's, 
and  his  additions  are  of  very  doubtful  value. 

Then  beneath  the  velvet  chin, 
Whose  dimple  shades  a  love  within, 
Mould  her  nock,  with  grace  descending, 
In  a  heaven  of  beauty  ending. 

In  the  original  thus :  '  Within  a  soft  chin,  around  a  marble 
neck,  let  all  the  Graces  be  flying'. 

The  poet  passes  now  to  the  limbs,  which  '  a  lucid  veil 
shadows  but  does  not  conceal '. 

Similar  arts,  but  with  greater  intensity  and  fulness  of 
details,  are  bestowed  on  the  beautiful  youth,  in  the  next 
Ode. 

The  fiction  of  the  poet,  in  dictating  to  a  painter  the 
features  of  his  beautiful  pair,  renders  the  poems  all  the  more 
suitable,  as  exemplifying  personal  description. 

We  may  next  refer  to  a  celebrated  modem  instance : 
Suckling's  Bride,  in  his  '  Ballad  on  a  Wedding '.  The 
stanzas  describing  the  bride  are  a  mixture  of  descriptive 
epithets  with  action,  the  action  predominating.  There  is 
no  order  in  the  selection  of  the  features.  A  well-chosen 
comparison,  not  too  far-fetched,  and  very  impressive,  gives 
us  a  general  view  to  begin  with  : — 

No  grape  that's  kindly  ripe  could  be 
So  round,  so  plump,  so  soft  as  she, 
Nor  half  so  full  of  juice. 

The  personal  description  begins  with  the  finger,  for 
which  the  ring  was  too  wide,  and  looked  like  a  great  collar 
on  a  young  colt's  neck.  This  is  manifestly  overdone. 
The  element  of  the  little  in  beauty  can  easily  be  made 
ridiculous. 

Perhaps  the  most  admired  stanza  is  the  next  in  order^ 


148  FEErrNG — exemplification. 

Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat, 
Like  little  mice,  stole  in  and  out, 

As  if  they  feared  the  light. 
But  oh  !  she  dances  such  a  way  ! 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter-day 

Is  half  so  fine  a  sight. 

This  is  felt  to  be  exquisitely  suggestive ;  it  takes  the  full 
advantage  of  working  by  action.  The  second  half  is  less 
effective ;  it  is  one  of  the  comparisons  that  operate  by  in- 
tensity of  degree  in  an  alien  subject. 

In  the  stanzas  on  the  face,  the  description  is  aided  by 
heightening  figures : — 

Her  cheeks  so  rare  a  white  was  on, 
No  daisy  makes  comparison, 

Who  sees  them  is  undone  ; 
For  streaks  of  red  were  muigled  there, 
Such  as  are  on  a  Cath'rine  pear, 

The  side  that's  next  the  sun. 

This  is  one  of  the  innumerable  attempts  to  portray  rich- 
ness of  complexion  ;  and  is  not  unsuccessful. 

Still  better,  however,  is  the  stanza  combining  mouth, 
chin  and  eyes  : — 

Her  lips  were  red  ;  and  one  was  thin, 
Compared  to  that  was  next  her  chm, 

(Some  bee  had  stung  it  newly ;) 
But,  Dick,  her  eyes  so  guard  her  face, 
I  durst  no  more  upon  them  gaze, 

Than  on  the  sun  in  July. 

The  first  half  is  strikingly  managed ;  the  descriptive 
epithets  are  suitable  and  heightened  by  the  allusion.  The 
second  half  flies  off  upon  the  very  frequent  usage  of  a  mere 
intensity  figure.  In  so  far  as  the  meaning  can  be  inter- 
preted, its  force  is  dubious  ;  a  pair  of  fine  eyes  should  not 
affect  us  like  the  sun's  glare. 

The  poet  next  surprises  us  by  taking  up  the  mouth, 
which  is  thus  separated  from  its  constituents  the  lips  : — 

Her  mouth  so  small,  when  she  does  speak, 
Thou'dst  swear  her  teeth  her  words  did  break. 
That  they  might  passage  get. 

There  is  hero  the  same  unsuitable  exaggeration  of  smallness; 
while  the  figure  employed  is  harsh  rather  than  agreeable. 

In  the  next  example,  we  pass  beyond  personal  beauty, 
whether  in  picture,  or  in  action,  or  in  both,  and  include 
iiiuiital  qualities  that  inspire  love.     So  powerful  is  this  source 


WORDSWOETH'S    '  PHANTOM    OF    DELIGHT  '.  149 

of  erotic  stimulus,  that  it  may  excite  the  passion  in  the 
absence  of  charms  of  person.  The  effect,  however,  of  intro- 
ducing these  quahties  may  be  to  relax  attention  to  the  others, 
and  still  oftener  to  make  a  see-saw  of  confusing  description. 

Wordsworth's  fine  Lyric — '  She  was  a  Phantom  of  De- 
light '  —  although  not  an  erotic  composition,  in  the 
sense  of  direct  love-making,  yet  exemplifies  all  the  arts  of 
inspiring  the  love  attachment.  There  is  a  delineation  of 
personal  beauty,  embracing  form  and  movement,  and  the 
highest  graces  and  virtues  of  the  mind. 

She  was  a  Phantom  of  delight 
When  first  she  gleamed  upon  my  sight : 
A  lovely  Apparition,  sent 
To  be  a  moment's  ornament. 

This  is  to  begin  with  a  comprehensive  epithet,  the  force 
lying  in  the  bold  figure  combined  with  the  warm  epithets 
'  delight '  and  '  lovely  '.  The  last  line  is  weak  from  the  idea 
of  the  *  momentary'  (introduced  for  a  purpose). 

Her  eyes  as  stars  of  Twilight  fair  ; 
Like  Twilight's,  too,  her  dusky  hair. 

The  first  feature  introduced  is  the  eyes,  and  the  com- 
parison is  elevating  no  doubt,  but  still  remote,  and  trite 
from  usage.  The  addition  of  Twilight  gives  more  pic- 
turesqueness  and  force,  as  indicating  the  specially  brilliant 
stars.  The  '  dusky  hair '  is  not  highly  suggestive,  and  the 
resemblance  to  Twilight  is  not  sufficiently  close.  These  are 
the  only  bodily  features  referred  to. 

But  all  things  else  about  her  drawn 
From  May-time  and  the  cheerful  Dawn ; 
A  dancing  Shape,  an  Image  gay 
To  haunt,  to  startle,  and  waylay. 

The  comparisons  of  her  general  bearing  to  Ma.y-time  and 
the  Dawn  have  a  certain  conventional  force  ;  yet  not  much 
actual  suggestiveuess  or  emotional  elevation  on  the  whole. 
The  'dancing  Shape  and  Image  gay'  are  not  especially 
feUcitous,  judged  by  the  tests  of  appropriateness  and  eleva- 
tion. The  last  line  works  by  phrases  indicating  the  effect 
on  the  beholder  ;  they  do  not  run  to  a  climax.  Possibly  one 
of  the  ideas,  as  '  haunt,'  expanded  into  an  image  might  have 
been  more  telling  :  the  three  words  chosen  lead  the  mind 
into  conflicting  trains. 


150  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

I  saw  her  upon  nearer  \aew, 
A  Spirit,  yet  a  Woman  too ! 

This  we  admire  for  its  terseness  and  strength  of  compliment. 

Her  household  motions  light  and  free, 
And  steps  of  virgin  liberty. 

The  same  cautious  determination  to  combine  attractiveness  of 
demeanour  with  severe  propriety  of  character.  What 
follows  is  in  a  like  strain  : — 

A  countenance  in  wliich  did  meet 
Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet 

Somewhat  deep  in  thought ;  yet  with  a  certain  happy  bold- 
ness and  comprehensiveness  that  we  must  accept  and  admire. 

A  Creature  not  too  bright  or  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food  ; 
For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles. 
Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears  and  smiles. 

Here  we  have  the  crowning  of  the  moral  side,  at  the 
expense,  it  may  be,  of  the  physical.  The  poet's  intention 
is  to  keep  his  ideal  as  close  as  possible  to  the  real ;  and  his 
words  are  well  chosen  for  the  end.  He  descends  from  lyric 
heights  to  the  homely  figure  of  '  daily  food  '  ;  and  completes 
the  sketch  by  matter  of  fact  enumeration  of  human  realities. 

And  now  I  see  with  eye  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine. 

Here  we  have  to  excuse  both  a  touch  of  mechanism  and  an 
incongruity  of  figure.  It  is  meant  to  be  terse  and  compre- 
hensive ;  while  the  succeeding  lines  supply  the  expansion  : — 

A  Being  breathing  thoughtful  breath, 
A  Traveller  between  life  and  death  ; 
The  reason-firm,  the  temperate  will. 
Endurance,  foresight,  strength,  and  skill. 

The  first  lines  express  in  intelligible  and  suitable  figures  the 
poet's  idea  of  a  well-balanced  mind  .-  the  last  two  employ  the 
usual  designations  for  practical  virtue  and  moral  excellence. 

A  perfect  Woman,  nobly  planned. 

To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command  ; 

And  yet  a  Spirit  still,  and  bright 

With  something  of  an  angel  light. 

Eulogistically  iterates  the  same  reconciliation  of  different 
qualities.  The  language  is  compact  and  forcible  without 
being  original.  In  using  lofty  phrases,  Wordsworth  still 
observes  a  sobriety — '  somctliiti'j  of  an  angel  light '. 

The  whole  poem  is  characteristic  of  Wordsworth.     The 


CHAEACTEBISTICS   OF   WOEDSWOETH's   POEM.  151 

picture  is  idealized,  yet  it  does  not  pass  very  far  beyond 
possibility  ;  and,  in  giving  a  loving  personation,  he  combines 
it  with  the  qualities  that  obviate  the  frequent  and  deplor- 
able failures  in  love  attachments.  He  does  not  lose  sight  of 
those  practical  virtues  that  are  the  seasoning  and  the  safety 
of  hfe. 

The  combination  of  personal  description  with  figurative 
iteration  and  the  virtue-s  of  character,  would  require  a  more 
studied  order  than  Wordsworth  gives  ;  at  least  if  he  wishes 
the  ode  to  impress  us  as  a  whole.  But  this  is  a  defect 
attending  more  or  less  all  the  descriptions  of  poetry  when- 
ever the  complication  of  aims  is  considerable. 

In  Wordsworth's  '  Highland  Girl,'  we  have  the  expres- 
sion of  tenderness  well  exemplified,  although  not  with  a  view 
to  the  sexual  feeling.  The  most  illustrative  portion  of  the 
poem  is  the  environment : — 

And  these  grey  rocks  :  tliis  household  lawn : 
These  Trees,  a  veil  just  half  withdrawn ; 
Tills  fall  of  water,  that  doth  make 
A  murmur  near  the  silent  Lake ; 
This  little  Bay,  a  quiet  road 
That  holds  in  shelter  thy  abode. 

As  a  scenic  description  this  has  a  merit  of  its  own  ;  as  re- 
flecting the  beauty  of  the  Highland  girl,  it  has  no  obvious 
merit. 

We  must  now  advance  a  step,  and  open  the  wide  gate 
of  the  description  of  the  lover's  own  feelings  by  all  the  arts 
that  have  been  employed  for  this  purpose.  The  forms  of 
expression  are  as  numerous  as  the  compass  of  language,  and 
cannot  be  classified ;  yet  we  may  exemplify  the  more  pre- 
valent occasions  of  success  and  failure. 

The  lover's  feelings  assume  two  opposite  forms  ;  the  joys 
of  prosperous  love,  and  the  pains  of  being  thwarted.  Both 
rank  among  the  intensest  forms  of  human  emotion ;  and 
poetry  assists  in  bodying  them  forth,  even  to  excess. 

The  mingling  of  subjective  description  with  all  the  arts 
previously  illustrated,  still  further  complicates  the  erotic 
strain  of  composition.  It  renders  a  consecutive  order  more 
and  more  difficult,  without,  however,  doing  away  with  the 
advantages  of  method. 

Taking  this  new  circumstance  along  with  those  previously 
named,  and  confining  ourselves  to  the  joyous  side  of  love 


152  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

emotion,  we  may  next  pass  in  review  Tennyson's  'Gar- 
dener's Daughter '  considered  as  a  highly  artistic  specimen 
of  erotic  art. 

Passing  over  the  introduction,  we  take  up  the  narrative 
at  the  point  where  the  two  friends,  both  painters,  take  the 
road  to  the  gardener's  cottage  : — 

Not  wholly  in  the  busy  world,  nor  quite 

Beyond  it,  blooms  the  garden  that  I  love. 

News  from  the  humming  city  comes  to  it 

In  sound  of  funeral  or  of  marriage  bells  ; 

And,  sitting  muffled  in  dark  leaves,  you  hear 

The  windy  clanging  of  the  minster  clock. 

The  fields  between 
Are  dewy-fresh,  browsed  by  deep-udder'd  kine. 

These  descriptive  and  concrete  allusions,  and  more  to  the 
same  effect — not  specially  in  the  style  of  the  author,  but 
common  to  him  with  poets  generally, — give  the  interval  to 
be  gone  over  to  the  gardener's  cottage. 

The  delineation  of  the  beauty  herself  commences — 

Who  had  not  heard 
Of  Rose,  the  gardener's  daughter  ?   Where  was  he, 
So  blunt  in  memory,  so  old  at  heart. 
At  such  a  distance  from  his  youth  in  grief, 
That,  having  seen,  forgot  ?   The  common  mouth, 
So  gross  to  express  delight,  in  praise  of  her 
Grew  oratory.     Such  a  lord  is  love. 
And  Beauty  such  a  mistress  of  the  world. 

This  very  usual  mode  of  celebrating  beauty  merely  whets 
appetite  ;  it  is  but  a  prelude  to  some  more  definite  picture 
that  we  can  in  some  measure  conceive. 

The  poet's  art  shines  forth  in  what  comes  next.  It  is 
the  feverish  anticipation  of  the  visitor  that  his  soul  would 
be  taken  possession  of,  and  his  joy  at  the  mere  thought. 
But  we  are  not  yet  admitted  to  the  sacred  presence.  A 
long  scenic  description  must  intervene,  ere  the  company 
reach  the  cottage.  It  is  worked  up  so  as  to  be  in  harmony 
with  the  lover's  state  of  mind  : — 

All  the  land  in  flower}-  squares, 
Beneath  a  broad  and  equal-blowing  wind. 
Smelt  of  the  coming  summer,  as  one  large  cloud 
Drew  downward.  .  .  . 

— From  the  woods 
Came  voices  of  the  well-contented  doves. 
The  lark  could  scarce  get  out  his  notes  for  joy, 
But  shook  his  song  together  as  he  near'd 
His  happy  home,  the  ground. 


Tennyson's  'gaedener's  daughter'.  153 

The  approaches  to  the  garden  are  given  in  the  poet's 
picturesque  style.  The  beauty  herself  is  iirst  disclosed  in 
the  act  of  fixing  a  rose  tree  : — 

One  arm  aloft — 
Gown'd  in.  pure  white,  that  fitted  to  the  shape — 
Holding  the  bush,  to  fix  it  back,  she  stood. 
A  single  stream  of  all  her  soft  browai  hair 
Pour'd  on  one  side  :  the  shadow  of  the  flowers 
Stole  all  the  golden  gloss,  and,  wavering 
Lovingly  lower,  trembled  on  her  waist — 
Ah,  happy  shade — and  still  went  wavering  down, 
But,  ere  it  touch'd  a  foot,  that  might  have  danced 
The  greensward  into  greener  circles,  dipt, 
And  mix'd  with  shadows  of  the  common  ground  1 
But  the  full  day  dwelt  on  her  brows,  and  sunn'd 
Her  violet  eyes,  and  all  her  Hebe  bloom, 
And  doubled  his  own  warmth  against  her  lips, 
And  on  the  bomiteous  wave  of  such  a  breast 
As  never  pencil  drew. 

The  poet  takes  full  advantage  of  an  active  attitude,  and 
fills  in  the  particulars  by  degrees,  but  without  order,  and 
without  much  coherence.  Yet  his  epithets  are  all  emo- 
tionally interesting,  while  some  of  them  aid  the  picture  :  the 
soft  brown  hair,  the  golden  gloss,  the  violet  eyes,  the 
bounteous  wave  of  the  breast.  '  As  never  pencil  drew '  is 
an  adjunct  stale  with  repetition,  but  yet  not  to  be  dispensed 
with. 

She  is  ignorant  of  the  approach  of  the  two  visitors,  until 
the  entranced  lover  breaks  in  upon  her  with  a  speech  of 
stunning  and  cruel  exaggeration  : — 

One  rose,  but  one,  by  those  fair  fingers  cull'd, 
Were  worth  a  hundred  kisses  press'd  on  lips 
Less  exquisite  than  thine. 
Taken   by  surprise,  she   had  no  words   to   reply,  but   the 
asking  of  the  rose  came  to  her  relief.     She  gave  the  rose, 
and  '  statue-like  '  moved  away. 

The  remainder  of  the  poem  is  occupied  with  the  lover's 
feelings,  which  are  intensified  by  a  wide  variety  of  descrip- 
tive touches.     First,  he  could  not  leave  the  spot  till  dusk. 
Going  home,  he  is  exposed  to  his  companion's  banter,  but 
without  effect.     Then  he  is  sleepless,  kisses  the  rose,  recalls 
her  glance  in  the  giving  of  it.     He  feels — • 
Such  a  noise  of  life 
Swarm'd  in  the  golden  present,  such  a  voice 
Call'd  to  me  from  the  years  to  come,  and  such 
A  length  of  bright  horizon  rimm'd  the  dark. 


154  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  torrent  of  the  thoughts  is  one  of  the  perennial  effects 
of  intense  emotion.  The  whole  night  is  passed  in  such 
dreams : — 

Love  at  first  sight,  first  bom,  and  heir  to  all, 
Llade  this  night  thus. 

Henceforth,  on  all  manner  of  slight  pretexts,  he  goes  day 
by  day  to  the  cottage ;  feasts  his  eyes  on  her  beauty ;  at 
last  succeeds  in  obtaining  the  return  of  affection.  Endear- 
ments commence,  which  are  graced  by  the  poet's  usual 
scenic  accompaniments.  Then  comes  the  conversation, 
leading  up  to  exchange  of  vows : — 

Yet  might  I  tell  of  meetings,  of  farewells — 

Of  that  which  came  between,  more  sweet  than  each, 

In  whispers,  like  the  whispers  of  the  leaves 

That  tremble  round  a  nightmgale. 

And  the  fine  pathetic  conclusion  : — 

Behold  her  there. 
As  I  beheld  her  ere  she  knew  my  heart, 
My  first,  last  love  ;  the  idol  of  my  youth. 
The  darling  of  my  manhood,  and,  alas  ! 
Now  the  most  blessed  memory  of  mine  age. 

Such  an  avowal  is  a  worthy  climax  of  affection,  redeeming 
it  from  passing  fancy  and  frivolity,  and  attesting  its  extraor- 
dinary power  for  conferring  happiness. 

We  may  remark  again  on  the  efficacy  of  a  plot  or  story 
to  bring  out  the  strength  of  love,  and  to  carry  home  the 
impression.  The  other  arts  have  become  apparent  in  the 
course  of  the  review. 

The  painful  phase  of  the  love  passion  has  already  re- 
ceived prominence  in  the  illustrations  from  the  ancient 
poets.  It  will  be  sufficient  now  to  make  a  brief  allusion  to 
Pope's  '  Epistle  of  Eloisa  to  Abelard  '. 

Pope  had  the  advantage  of  starting  from  Eloisa's  ow^n 
letters,  which  kept  him  in  the  right  track  in  his  delineation. 
He  superinduced  upon  this  his  own  poetic  treatment,  ac- 
cording to  his  judgment  of  effect. 

Eloisa  having  embraced  the  conventual  vows,  is  yet  un- 
able to  suppress  her  passion  for  Abelard  ;  and  the  struggle 
of  the  two  motives,  tearing  her  heart  to  pieces,  is  the  prevail- 
ing idea  of  the  poet's  handling.  He  takes  care  to  picture  the 
gloomy  interior  of  the  convent  as  a  reflex  of  her  feelings ; 
and  follows  with  an  expression  of  her  furious  attachment 


pope's  eloisa.  155 

to  the  beloved  one ;  making  her  reflect,  as  she  goes  on,  upon 
the  dismal  incongruity  between  her  feelings  and  her  present 
duties.  She  appeals  to  Abelard  still  to  write  to  her,  and  let 
her  share  his  griefs.  She  can  think  of  nothing  but  his  image, 
while  she  goes  mechanically  through  her  religious  devotions. 
But  this  is  a  fight  too  dreadful  to  be  borne.  Her  spirit 
again  re-asserts  the  fulfilment  of  her  vows.  She  bursts 
out — ■ 

No,  fly  me,  fly  me !  far  as  pole  from  pole. 

She  falls  back  upon  virtue  and  immortality  as  her  single 
aim ;  prepares  her  mind  for  an  early  consignment  to  the 
tomb.  Even  then  she  invokes  the  presence  of  Abelard,  to 
perform  the  last  offices  and  see  her  departure ;  and  prays 
that  one  grave  may  unite  them,  as  a  memento  to  lovers  in 
after  ages. 

The  tragedy  of  the  whole  situation  dispenses  with  many 
of  the  usual  modes  of  representing  a  lover's  distress.  The 
conflict  with  religious  duty  alone  suffices  to  attest  the 
violence  of  the  passion. 

The  chief  adverse  criticism  would  be  that  the  language 
is  too  uniformly  dignified  and  rhetorical  for  the  natural 
utterance  of  intense  passion. 

The  question  may  be  put — Why  should  a  poet  depict  such 
great  misery  ?  The  love  passion  when  prosperous  is  pleasant 
to  sympathize  with  ;  pleasure  calls  up  pleasure  in  our  minds. 

The  answer  is  this : — Such  a  picture  of  devotion  to 
a  man  inspires  us  with  the  grateful  feeling  of  nobleness  of 
character  in  its  most  touching  form.  We  like  to  contem- 
plate the  fact  that  one  human  being  is  able  to  evoke  such  a 
strength  of  devotion  in  the  breast  of  another ;  it  is  an 
enormous  possibility  of  happiness  to  both,  when  fortune 
smiles  on  their  felicity. 

The  next  example  is  from  Scott.  In  TJie  Lady  of  ihe 
Lake,  Canto  I.,  Ellen  is  portrayed  in  three  fine  stanzas.  In 
the  first,  her  approach  in  the  boat,  in  response  to  the 
stranger's  horn,  is  embedded  in  scenic  description,  and  she 
is  left  in  an  attitude  compared  to  a  Grecian  statue.  Her 
person  is  delineated  in  a  succession  of  circumstantials  of 
beauty,  falling  under  Scott's  usual  comprehensive  sketch. 

And  ne'er  did  Grecian  chisel  trace 
A  Nymph,  a  Naiad,  or  a  Grace, 
Of  finer  form,  or  lovelier  face. 


156  FEELING — EXEMrLIFICATION. 

Her  complexion  is  given  by  an  indirect  allusion : — 

What  though  the  sun  with  ardent  irown, 
Had  slightly  tinged  her  cheek  with  brown, — 
The  sportive  toil,  which,  short  and  light, 
Had  dyed  her  glowing  hue  so  bright, 
Served  too  in  hastier  swell  to  show 
Short  glimpses  of  a  breast  of  snow. 

He  next  passes  to  her  step — 

A  foot  more  light,  a  step  more  true, 

Ne'er  from  the  heath  flower  dash'd  the  dew: 

Again  her  speech — 

What  though  upon  her  speech  there  hung 
The  accents  of  the  mountain  tongue, — 
Whose  silver  sounds,  so  soft,  so  dear, 
The  listener  held  his  breath  to  hear. 

This  is  so  far  well,  although  somewhat  meagre  as  a  picture. 
In  another  stanza,  the  poet  enters  upon  her  costume,  and 
through  it  gives  some  additional  touches  to  the  personal 
description  : — 

And  seldom  was  a  snood  amid 

Such  wild  luxuriant  rmglets  hid. 

But  the  main  subject  of  the  stanza  is  her  beauty  of  charac- 
ter, which  is  supposed  to  be  revealed  at  once  in  her  fine  ex- 
pression. The  development  of  the  story  is  the  comment  on 
the  qualities  here  set  forth,  and  includes  the  details  of  her 
love-making,  and  her  destiny  in  correspondence  thereto. 

The  poem  of  Matthew  Arnold  entitled  *  Switzerland ' 
is  a  noble  expression  of  love  sentiment,  through  its  various 
phases,  including  final  separation.  The  picture  of  the  loved 
cue  is  given  with  well-managed  brevity. 

I  know  that  graceful  figure  fair, 

That  check  of  languid  hue  ; 
I  know  that  soft  enkerchief'd  hair, 

And  those  sweet  eyes  of  blue. 

An  addition  is  afterwards  made,  without  confusing  what 
went  before  : — 

The  lovely  lips,  Avith  their  arch  smile  that  tells 
The  uuconquer'd  joy  in  which  her  spirit  dwells. 

The  chief  feature  of  the  poem  is  the  splendid  series  of 
descriptions  of  Swiss  scenery,  which  are  supposed  to  mingle 
harmoniously  with  the  love  emotions,  or  at  all  events  to 
provide  alternatives  to  the  story.     These  descriptions  have 


MATTHEW    AENOLD's    'SWITZERLAND*.  157 

a  merit  of  tbeir  own,  and  their  connexion  with  the  author's 
feehngs  is  traceable  in  so  far  as  they  iniuister  to  the  intensity. 
The  stanzas  describing  the  feelings  in  direct  terms  are  ex- 
pressed in  well-selected  circumstances. 

Forgive  me !  forgive  me  I 

Ah,  Marguerite,  faiii 
Would  these  arms  reach  to  clasp  thee ! 

But  see  1  'tis  in  vain. 

Far,  far  from  each  other 

Our  spirits  have  grown ; 
And  what  heart  knows  another  ? 

Ah !  who  knows  iiis  own  ? 

Blow,  ye  winds  !  lift  me  with  you! 

I  come  to  the  wild, 
Fold  closely,  0  Nature  ! 

Thme  arms  round  thy  child. 

The  '  Farewell '  is  energetic  and  reflective  : — 

And  women—  things  that  live  and  move 

Mined  by  the  fever  of  the  soul — 
They  seek  to  find  m  those  they  love 

Stern  strength,  and  promise  of  control. 

The  closing  stanzas  take  an  elevated  strain  : — 

How  sweet,  unreach'd  by  earthly  jars, 

My  sister  1  to  maintain  with  thee 
The  hush  among  the  shining  stars, 

The  calm  upon  the  moonlit  sea  ! 

The  windings  of  this  remarkable  poem  are  suggestive  of 
the  love  passion,  not  merely  as  regards  its  intensity,  but  for 
its  persistence  under  want  of  encouragement — perhaps  the 
highest  testimony  that  can  be  rendered  to  the  depth  and 
power  of  the  feeling. 

The  love  poetry  of  Burns  affords  an  abundant  exemplifi- 
cation of  nearly  all  the  known  devices  peculiar  to  the  theme. 
Consisting  of  short  effusions,  mainly  songs,  it  almost 
entirely  excludes  plot-interest ;  occasionally  there  is  a  slight 
use  of  narrative,  as  in  '  The  Soldier's  Eeturn '  and  '  There 
was  a  lass  and  she  was  fair '. 

In  regard  to  description  of  the  object  of  love,  Burns 
usually  depends  on  a  few  unsystematic  touches,  expressive 
of  the  emotion  excited.  Sometimes,  however,  he  does  enter 
on  a  regular  enumeration  of  the  qualities  that  charm  ;  but 
his  method  even  then  is  rather  to  elevate  the  object  by 
comparisons,  both  figurative  and  literal,  than  to  give  any 


158  FEELING  — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

distinct  impression  of  the  personal  appearance.    The  follow- 
ing is  an  example  : — 

Her  looks  were  like  a  flower  in  IMay, 
Her  smile  was  like  a  simmer  morn ; 

She  tripped  by  the  banks  of  Earn, 
As  light's  a  bird  upon  a  thorn. 

Her  bonny  face  it  was  as  meek 

As  ony  lamb  upon  a  lea  ; 
The  evening  siui  was  ne'er  sae  sweet, 

As  was  the  blink  o'  Pheniie's  ee. 

More  elaborate  specimens  of  the  same  method  are  seen 
in  '  Young  Peggy  '  and  '  On  Cessnock  Banks '.  In  '  Sae 
flaxen  were  her  ringlets,'  we  have  an  exceptional  amount  of 
detail : — 

Sae  flaxen  were  her  ringlets. 

Her  eyebrows  of  a  darker  hue, 
Bewitcliingly  o'er-archmg 

Twa  laughing  een  o'  boiuiy  blue. 

But  the  remainder  proceeds  in  his  more  usual  maimer : — 

Her  smiling  sae  wiling 

Wad  make  a  wretch  forget  his  woe  • 
What  pleasure,  wliat  treasure, 

Unto  these  rosy  lips  to  grow  ! 

Among  charms  to  be  celebrated,  Bums  does  not  over- 
look the  mental,  especially  reciprocated  affection.  The 
refrain  of  one  song  is,  '  She  says  she  lo'es  me  best  of  a','  and 
of  another,  '  Kind  love  is  in  her  ee'. 

But  the  largest  constituents  of  Burns's  love  songs  are 
the  expression  of  the  lover's  own  feelings  and  the  use  of 
harmonizing  circumstances.  The  methods  employed  under 
these  heads  are  sutliciently  varied. 

The  pleasure  of  the  loved  one's  presence,  the  pain  of 
absence,  the  memory  of  past  happiness,  the  hope  of  meeting 
again,  and  the  pain  of  unrequited  love  are  all  employed  for 
the  pui-pose ;  and  these  are  expi-essed  with  the  hyper- 
bolical intensity  appropriate  to  love.  Eeference  may  be 
made  to  'Oh,  wert  thou  in  the  cauld  blast?'  'Corn  Eigs,' 
'My  ain  kind  dearie,'  and  'Mary  ^[orison '.  Sometimes  a 
striking  and  characteristic  action  is  happily  introduced,  as 
in  '  Mai'y  Morison':  — 

Yestreen,  when  to  the  trembling  sti-ing 
The  dance  gacd  through  the  lighted  ha', 

To  thee  my  fancy  took  its  wing — 
1  sat,  but  neither  heard  nor  saw. 


LOVE  POETRY  OF  BURNS.  159 

The  all-pervading  association  of  love  and  the  constant 
thought  of  the  loved  one  are  most  fully  expressed  in  'O'  a' 
the  airts  ' : — 

I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers, 

I  see  her  sweet  and  fair ; 
I  hear  her  in  the  tunefu'  birds, 

I  hear  her  charm  the  air : 
There's  not  a  bonny  flower  that  springs 

By  fountain,  shaw,  or  green, 
There's  not  a  bonny  bird  that  sings, 

But  minds  me  o'  my  Jean. 

Chivalrous  devotion  and  self-sacrifice  are  prominent  in 
*  The  Highland  Lassie '  and  '  Oh,  wert  thou  in  the  cauld 
blast?'     Thus:— 

Or  did  Misfortune's  bitter  storms 

Around  thee  blaw,  around  thee  blaw, 

Thy  bield  should  be  my  bosom. 
To  share  it  a',  to  share  it  a'. 

As  regards  harmonizing  circumstances,  Burns's  use  of 
allusions  to  the  outer  v^orld  are  frequent  and  happy.  Be- 
sides using  Nature  for  the  expression  of  feeling  in  harmony 
with  it,  he  very  often  employs  it  by  way  of  contrast  to  the 
emotion  uttered ;  and,  not  unfrequently,  the  greater  part  of 
the  song  consists  of  references  to  natural  objects  employed 
in  one  or  other  of  these  ways.  For  direct  harmony  of  nature 
with  feeling,  we  may  refer  to  '  Afton  Water,'  *  Wandering 
Willie,'  'Highland  Mary,'  and  'Mary  in  Heaven'  ;  and  for 
the  stronger  expression  of  feeling  by  contrast,  we  may  quote 
'  Ye  banks  and  braes,'  '  My  Nannie's  awa','  and  '  Menie '. 
In  the  *  Birks  of  Aberfeldy '  we  have  nature  minutely 
described,  but  for  its  own  sake ;  the  connexion  with  love, 
which  appears  in  the  refrain,  hardly  affects  the  description. 
In  general,  emotional  fitness,  rather  than  full  representation 
of  the  objects,  is  aimed  at;  the  stanza  already  quoted  from 
'  Mary  in  Heaven '  being  more  elaborate  than  usual  (Part 
First,  p.  297). 

Take  the  following  as  illustrating  direct  harmony : — 

Thy  crystal  stream,  Afton,  how  lovely  it  glides, 
And  winds  by  the  cot  where  my  Mary  resides  ; 
How  wanton  thy  waters  her  snawy  feet  lave, 
As  gath'ring  sweet  flowerets  she  stems  thy  clear  wave. 

The  quiet  beauty  thus  depicted  is  in  unison  with  the  aspect 
of  love  described ;  and  the  action  of  the  last  two  lines  har- 
monizes with  the  feeling. 


160  FEELING  —EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  following  shows  the  force  of  contrast  : — 

The  snaw-drap  and  primrose  our  woodlands  adorn, 
And  violets  bathe  in  the  weet  o'  the  morn  ; 
They  pain  my  sad  bosom,  sae  sweetly  they  blaw, 
They  mind  me  o'  Nannie — and  Nannie's  awa' ! 

Burns  has  given  expression  to  conjugal  love  in  '  John 
Anrlerson '  and  '  Of  a'  the  airts '.  The  pathos  and  the 
humour  of  love,  %vhich  he  also  abundantly  expresses,  come 
more  directly  under  other  heads.* 

Browning  has  frequently  dealt  with  love,  and  in  ways 
peculiar  to  himself.  In  accordance  with  the  general  nature 
of  his  poetry,  his  object  is  not  to  set  forth  the  aspects  of 
the  emotion  that  are  commonly  experienced  and  easily 
recognized,  but  to  bring  to  light  its  most  subtle  charac- 
teristics and  workings.  The  means  most  frequently 
employed  by  him  is  the  monologue,  which  is  so  managed  as 
to  reveal  the  changing  phases  of  the  speaker's  feelings. 
Hence  his  love  poems  often  appear  not  so  much  the  expres- 
sion of  love,  as  the  stiKhj  of  it ;  and  the  words  of  the  speakers 
leave  the  impression  of  self-analysis  rather  than  the  direct 
utterance  of  feeling.  What  is  gained  in  originality  and 
intellectual  interest  is  to  some  extent  lost  in  general  im- 
pressiveness. 

Take  as  an  example  '  Two  in  the  Campagna '.  It  is  a 
picture  of  a  man's  love,  expressed  by  himself  to  the  woman 
beside  him  ;  and  its  burden  is  a  complaint  of  the  imperfec- 
tion of  liis  love,  notwithstanding  his  earnest  desire  that  it 
should  be  more  perfect. 

How  is  it  mid  or  our  control 

To  love  or  not  to  love  ? 
I  would  that  you  were  all  to  me, 

You  that  arc  just  so  much,  no  more. 
Nor  yours  nor  mine,  nor  slave  nor  free  ! 

Where  docs  the  fault  lie  ?     What  the  core 
O'  the  wound,  since  wound  must  be  ? 

He  cau  find  no  ex2)lanation  or  see  means  of  help  : — 

Only  I  discern  — 
Infinite  passion,  and  the  pain 
Of  finite  hearts  that  yearn. 

*  Ttis  worthy  of  obsorvation  that  the  sensual  aspects  of  love  are  almost,  if  not 
nltopetlicr,  excliuleil  from  tlie  shHous  love  sonps  of  Bu'iis.  When  they  appear,  it  is 
in  his  hinniinms  pieces,  whether  songs  or  poems.  Ue  ia  in  this  a  contrast  to  Ana- 
creon  and  otliers. 


LOVE   IN   BROWNING. — GEORGE    ELIOT.  IGl 

The  situation  is  thoroughly  original,  and  the  utterance 
powerful ;  but  it  Is  so  entirely  apart  from  ordinary  experi- 
ence that  it  can  hardly  arouse  sympathetic  emotion,  though 
it  may  furnish  fresh  material  for  thought. 

Unrequited  love  has  been  frequently  treated  by  Brown- 
ing, and  in  a  manner  different  from  most  other  poets.  His 
favourite  attitude  of  mind  for  the  rejected  lover  is  calm 
resignation,  without  anger,  despair,  or  the  lessening  of 
respect  for  the  person  loved.  This  is  the  spirit  portrayed 
in  '  The  Lost  Mistress,'  '  The  Last  Eide  together,'  and  '  One 
Way  of  Love '.  The  purity  and  elevation  of  love  are  thus 
depicted  with  great  power ;  but  the  effect  is  more  allied 
to  Strength  than  to  Pathos.  The  situation  of  undeclared 
love,  whose  opportunity  is  removed  by  death,  as  pictured  in 
'  Evelyn  Hope,'  though  evoking  the  same  calm  strength  of 
character,  is  more  purely  pathetic.     Thus  : — 

I  loved  you,  Evel3m,  all  the  while  ! 

My  heart  seemed  full  as  it  could  hold; 
There  was  place  and  to  spare  for  the  frank  young  smile, 

And  the  red  young  mouth,  and  the  hair's  young  gold. 
So  hush, — I  will  give  you  this  leaf  to  keep : 

See,  I  shut  it  inside  the  sweet  cold  hand  I 
There,  that  is  our  secret :  go  to  sleep  ! 

You  will  wake,  and  remember,  and  understand. 

Browning's  use  of  harmonizing  circumstances  is  abun 
dant  and  appropriate,  though  often  subtle  in  the  application. 
Personification  is  happily  employed  to  express  this  harmony. 
(See  an  example  under  Personification.) 

One  of  George  Ehot's  finest  attempts  at  picturing 
beauty,  both  of  person  and  of  ways,  is  seen  in  'Hetty 
Sorrel '.  The  descriptic  n  begins  with  a  sort  of  generic  view 
of  Hetty's  beauty,  as  that  of  '  kittens,  or  very  small  downy 
ducks  making  gentle  rippling  noises  with  their  soft  bills,  or 
babies  just  beginning  to  toddle  and  to  engage  in  conscious 
mischief.  The  defective  side  of  su:-h  an  attempt  is  partly 
the  difficulty  of  making  it  combine  with  the  actual  form  and 
features  of  Hetty,  and  partly  the  introduction  of  another 
interest,  the  interest  of  the  child-like,  which  the  description 
of  a  full-grown  girl  should  not  depend  upon.  Perhaps  the 
intention  was  to  bring  out  the  idea  of  the  unconscious  and 
unreflective  enjoyment  of  life,  with  which  the  character 
harmonizes  throughout. 

The  actual  details  do  not  receive  the  assistance  of  an 


162  FEELING EXEMPLIFICATION. 

orderly  method,  and  we  may  doubt  whether  any  imagina- 
tion could  figure  this  remarkable  beauty. 

"  It  is  of  little  use  for  me  to  tell  you  that  Hetty's  cheek 
was  like  a  rose-petal,  that  dimples  played  about  her  pouting 
lips,  that  her  large  dark  eyes  hid  a  soft  roguishness  under 
their  long  lashes,  and  that  her  curly  hair,  though  all  pushed 
back  under  her  round  cap  while  she  was  at  work,  stole  back 
in  dark  delicate  rings  on  her  forehead,  and  about  her  white 
shell-like  ears ;  it  is  of  little  use  for  me  to  say  how  lovely 
was  the  contour  of  her  pink  and  white  neckerchief,  tucked 
into  her  low  plum-coloured  stuff  bodice,  or  how  the  linen 
butter-making  apron,  with  its  bib,  seemed  a  thing  to  be 
imitated  in  silk  by  duchesses,  since  it  fell  in  such  charming 
lines,  or  how  her  brown  stockings  and  thick-soled  buckled 
shoes  lost  all  that  clumsiness  which  they  must  certainly 
have  had  when  empty  of  her  foot  and  ankle — of  little  use, 
unless  you  have  seen  a  woman  who  affected  you  as  Hetty 
affected  her  beholders,  for  otherwise,  though  you  might  con- 
jure up  the  image  of  a  lovely  woman,  she  would  not  in  the 
least  resemble  that  distracting  kitten-like  maiden." 

Much  more  should  have  been  said  of  her  figure  and 
complexion  to  begin  with,  instead  of  repeating  it  in  snatches, 
in  the  course  of  the  story.  The  dress  naturally  goes  with 
the  person,  especially  when  studied  for  effect.  The  author, 
however,  takes  care  to  exhaust  for  the  present  the  still  life 
picture,  before  adding  the  following  sentences : — 

"And  they  are  the  prettiest  attitudes  and  movements 
into  which  a  pretty  girl  is  thrown  in  making  up  butter — 
tossing  movements  tbat  give  a  charming  curve  to  the  arm, 
and  a  sideward  inclination  of  the  round  white  neck  ;  little 
patting  and  rolling  movements  with  the  palm  of  the  hand, 
and  nice  adaptations  and  finishings  which  cannot  at  all  be 
effected  without  a  great  play  of  the  pouting  mouth  and  the 
dark  eyes". 

But  the  comparisons  to  the  '  divine  charms  of  a  bright 
spring  day,'  when  we  strain  our  eyes  after  the  mountain 
lark,  or  wander  through  the  still  lanes  when  the  fresh- 
opened  blossoms  fill  them  with  a  sacred,  silent  beauty  like 
that  of  fretted  aisles ' — though  pleasing  in  themselves,  are 
scarcely  an  aid  to  the  conception  of  a  beautiful  girl.  All 
comparisons  should  be  subordinated  to  some  definite  form 
and  picture,  such  as  we  could  keep  steadily  before  the  mind, 
thruiighout  the  narrative. 


POETEY  OF  CONJUGAL  AFFECTION.  1G3 

This  is  the  same  author's  dehneation  of  the  beauty  of 
the  arm  : — 

"  Who  has  not  felt  the  beauty  of  a  woman's  arm? — the 
unspeakable  suggestions  of  tenderness  that  lie  in  the  dimpled 
elbow,  and  all  the  varied  gently  lessening  curves  down  to  the 
delicate  wrist,  with  its  tiniest,  almost  imperceptible  nicks  in 
the  firm  softness.  A  woman's  arm  touched  the  soul  of  a  great 
sculptor  two  thousand  years  ago,  so  that  he  wrought  an  image 
of  it  for  the  Parthenon  which  moves  us  still  as  it  clasps 
lovingly  the  time-worn  marble  of  a  headless  trunk.  Maggie's 
•was  such  an  arm  as  that— and  it  had  the  warm  tints  of  life." 

The  poetizing  of  Conjugal  Love  is  already  seen  in  the 
Iliad.  Homer's  happy  instinct  chooses  the  one  situation 
most  favourable  to  its  display,  that  is,  the  conjoint  interest 
of  parents  in  their  child  ;  and  other  poets  have  followed  in 
the  same  track.  The  parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache 
will  be  adduced  in  connexion  with  the  parental  feeling. 

The  picture  of  our  First  Parents  in  Paradise  Lost  (IV. 
288)  is  a  fine  ideal  of  the  personal  beauty  appropriate  to  the 
two  sexes  respectively.  It  is  conceived  with  Miltonic  stern- 
ness. As  an  ideal,  it  labours  under  impossibility  of  fulfil- 
ment, and  is  not  in  itself  interesting;  authority  without 
coercion,  and  absolute  submission,  qualified  only  by — 
Sweet,  reluctant,  amorous  delay. 

The  attempt  to  picture  wedded  happiness,  although  less 
frequent  than  the  delineation  of  love-making,  is  still  a  poetic 
theme.  The  personal  charms,  and  the  first  energy  of 
youthful  fire  are  gone.  There  remains,  in  the  rarer  in- 
stances, the  concentrated  attachment  to  one ;  while,  in  a 
still  greater  number,  there  is  the  mutual  play  of  good 
offices,  and  the  resolve  to  cherish  the  love  affection  as  the 
main  ingredient  of  happiness  for  both.  With  these  condi- 
tions, and  with  power  and  obedience  kept  in  the  back- 
ground, an  ideal  of  conjugal  happiness  can  be  presented, 
such  as  not  to  be  painfully  at  variance  with  human  ex- 
perience. 

PARENTAL   FEELING. 

1.  With  a  view  to  exemplify  the  poetry  of  Parental 
Feeling,  we  must  recall  the  distinctive  characteristics  of 


164  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

that  feeling.     While  generically  agreeing  with  Sexual 
Love,  it  has  certain  specific  differences. 

The  parental  emotion  has  the  generic  quality  of  Love  or 
Tenderness,  which  is  definable  mainly  by  appeal  to  our 
experience,  although  partly  also  by  contrast  with  the  emo- 
tion of  Strength.  In  point  of  intensity,  it  ranks  as  a  first- 
class  emotion  of  the  pleasurable  kind. 

The  chief  difference  between  parental  and  erotic  feeling 
has  reference  to  the  object.  In  the  purest  form  of  parental 
feeling,  w'e  have,  instead  of  a  full-grown  individual  of  the 
other  sex,  an  infant  in  the  first  and  dependent  stage  of  life. 
Littleness,  weakness,  dependence,  are  substituted  for  reci- 
procal and  equal  regards,  mutual  affection  and  mutual 
services.  The  infant  can  render  nothing;  it  is  a  passive 
object  of  pleasurable  contemplation. 

To  the  charms  of  littleness  and  dependence,  the  infant 
may  add  the  sensuous  beauties,  which  are  the  ornament  and 
the  charm  of  mature  life,  and  especially  distinguish  the 
feminine  personality.  While  all  infants  have  the  character 
of  weakness,  they  differ  among  themselves  in  these  other 
attractions. 

Infancy,  however,  soon  learns  to  repay  the  parental  affec- 
tion with  endearments  of  its  own  kind,  so  as  to  make  a 
slight  commencement  of  reciprocal  tenderness.  Moreover, 
it  can  either  maintain  a  behaviour  consistent  with  its  posi- 
tion ;  or  it  can  resort  to  self-assertion  and  rebellion,  thereby 
dissipating  the  charm  proper  to  its  character.  The  ideal 
excellence  of  the  child  is  expressed  by  Innocence  ;  in  other 
words,  by  subordination  to  the  will  of  its  elders.  As 
strength  increases,  its  growing  virtues  heighten  the  parental 
feeling. 

Thus,  then,  for  the  purposes  of  poetry,  the  hinges  of  de- 
lineation are,  first  and  fundamentally — the  little,  the  weak, 
the  helpless,  the  dependent.*  Second,  the  sensuous  beau- 
ties— a  variable  quantity.  Third,  the  responsive  smiles  and 
tokens  of  reciprocated  affections.  Fourth,  the  expression 
of  the  parent's  own  feelings,  and  the  supposed  virtues  of 

*  In  fliscnssinc  the  ffiunrlations  of  Beauty,  preat  .stress  was  laid  by  Burke  on  the 
little— the  peculiarity  of  the  infant  fascinatidn.  Ntvurthele.ss,  a  cert.ain  limit  must 
be  jilaceil  to  the  diniiiintive  timire  ;  there  is  a  proper  size  suited  to  our  received 
conception  of  the  child,  ainl  to  deviate  from  it  far  in  either  direction  destroys  the 
effi-ct.  The  danger  of  pushing  littleness  to  an  extreme  was  caricatured  by  Sydney 
Smith  in  reviewing  Burke's  theory. 


PAKENTAL    FEELING    IN    HOMEE.  165 

the   child — innocence   and   simphcity.      To  these   may  be 
added,  Ukeness  (real  or  imagined)  to  one  or  other  parent. 

In  every  aje  of  the  world,  parental  love  has  counted  for 
a  very  great  pleasure,  although  a  certain  degree  of  civiliza- 
tion is  necessary  to  do  justice  to  it.  Like  the  sexual  and 
other  tender  feelings,  it  was  late  in  gaining  its  full  place  in 
poetry. 

Homer  has  not  entirely  neglected  the  subject.  In  the 
parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache,  their  tender  interest  in 
their  child  is  portrayed.  The  expression  is  brief,  simple 
and  primitive,  and  yet  strikes  genuine  chords  in  the  parental 
relationship. 

"  So  spake  glorious  Hector,  and  stretched  out  his  arm  to 
his  boy.  But  the  child  shrunk  crying  to  the  bosom  of  his 
fair-girdled  nurse,  dismayed  at  his  dear  father's  aspect,  and 
in  dread  at  the  bronze  and  horse-hair  crest  that  he  beheld 
nodding  fiercely  from  the  helmet's  top.  Then  his  dear 
father  laughed  aloud,  and  his  lady  mother ;  forthwith 
glorious  Hector  took  the  helmet  from  his  head,  and  laid  it, 
all  gleaming,  upon  the  earth ;  then  kissed  he  his  dear  son 
and  dandled  him  in  his  arms,  and  spake  in  prayer  to  Zeus 
and  all  the  gods,  '  0  Zeus  and  all  ye  gods,  vouchsafe  ye 
that  this  my  son  may  likewise  prove  even  as  I,  pre-eminent 
amid  the  Trojans,  and  as  valiant  in  might,  and  be  a  great 
king  of  Ilios.  Then  may  men  say  of  him,  '  Far  greater  is 
he  than  his  father,'  as  he  returneth  home  from  battle  ;  and 
may  he  bring  with  him  blood-stained  spoils  from  the  foeman 
he  hath  slain,  and  may  his  mother's  heart  be  glad."  [Iliad, 
Book  VI.,  Leaf's  transl.) 

In  Homer's  wide  search  for  illustrative  similitudes  and 
circumstances,  the  situation  of  parent  and  child  is  not 
omitted.  Athene  turns  aside  an  arrow  aimed  by  Pandarus 
at  Menelaus — 

As  when  a  mother  from  her  infant's  cheek, 
Wrapt  in  sweet  slumbers,  brushes  off  a  tiy. 

The  presumptuous  Diomede,  who  wounded  the  goddess 
of  love,  receives  a  fatal  warning — 

for  him  no  child 
Upon  his  knees  shall  lisp  a  father's  name. 

Teucer,  the  younger  brother  of  the  huge  Ajax,  fights 


1G6  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

from  behind  his  brother's  shield,  and  after  peering  forth  to 
discharge  an  arrow  at  a  Trojan — 

as  a  cliild  creeps  to  his  mother,  crept 
To  Ajax. 

Achilles,  in  his  mourning  for  Patroclus,  introduces  the 
parental  feeling. 

In  the  Medea  of  Euripides,  the  mother's  scene  "with  her 
children  shows  the  poetic  handling  of  parental  fondness,  in 
a  few  prominent  touches,  chiefly  the  responsive  looks  and 
smiles,  with  little  or  nothing  of  helplessness  and  dependence. 

I  will  embrace  my  cliildren,     O,  my  sons, 
Give,  give  your  mother  your  dear  hands  to  kiss  I 
O,  dearest  hands,  and  mouths  most  dear  to  me, 
And  forms  and  noble  faces  of  my  sons ! 
3)0  happy  even  there  :  what  here  was  j^ours, 
Your  father  robs  you  of.     O,  delicate  scent ! 
0,  tender  touch  and  sweet  breath  of  my  boys  1 

The  play  with  children  was  imitated  in  the  doings  of 
Cupid,  who  was  represented  as  a  lovely  boy,  not  too  big  to 
dispense  with  mothei'ly  protection  and  fondness.  This  is 
almost  the  only  standing  embodiment  of  parental  feeling  in 
ancient  poetry. 

In  Virgil,  Dido  makes  love  to  .3j]neas  by  petting  his  boy 
Ascanius, 

The  parental  feeling  in  Eome  comes  out  in  some  remai'k- 
able  tales,  both  historical  and  mythical;  but  it  is  the  case  of 
the  grown-up  children,  who  assume  a  different  aspect  with 
parents.  The  sacrifice  of  Virginia  by  her  father  was  the 
parental  fondness  coming  into  collision  with  family  honour. 
In  describing  that  remarkable  scene,  our  own  poet  draws  a 
lofty  ideal  picture  of  parental  attachment  and  devotion. 

Among  the  ancients,  the  frequent  practice  of  exposing 
female  infants  must  have  given  a  check  to  the  fondness  of 
parents  for  their  new-born  offspring. 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  infancy  was  raised  to  a  much 
higher  rank  in  poetic  treatment.  The  infant  was  assimi- 
lated to  the  Angel,  in  purity,  innocence,  personal  charm. 
The  class  '  cherub '  was  a  combination  of  the  angelic  and 
the  child-like. 

Still  more  powerful  was  the  direction  given  by  the  wor- 
ship of  J(^8us  Christ,  in  His  capacity  of  the  infant  son  of  the 
Virgin  Mary.  The  Mother  and  Child  entered  into  Art  as  a 
standing  conception,  and  were  provided  with  all  the  inte- 


PARENTAL   PEELING   IN   THE   MIDDLE   AGES.  167 

resting  adjuncts  that  the  painter  could  embody  on  canvas,  or 
the  sacred  poet  introduce  into  the  hymnal  of  the  church. 
It  was  thought  that  worship  could  be  heightened  by  in- 
voking the  tender  sentiment  of  mankind  generally  towards 
infancy.  There  was,  no  doubt,  one  serious  drawback ;  it 
was  difficult  to  couple  with  infancy  the  commanding  attri- 
butes of  the  Godhead,  which  necessarily  repose  on  the  full 
maturity  of  the  Divine  Incarnation. 

To  follow  out  the  Parental  Feeling  in  Literature,  we 
must  pass  from  the  stage  of  infantile  attractions,  to  the 
relation  as  appearing  in  after  life.  It  is  then  divested  of  the 
original  charm  and  transformed  into  a  relationship  where 
the  children  contribute  to  become  the  parent's  stay.  The 
more  famous  poetic  situations  of  the  parental  feeling  sup- 
pose children  in  their  maturity.  The  bloom  of  youthful 
beauty  is  a  heightening  circumstance,  but  not  essential.  So 
also  with  the  display  of  amiable  virtues,  or  mental  power 
generally. 

Shakespeare,  like  Homer,  has  fine  passing  allusions  to 
the  state  of  infancy :  as  in  Lady  Macbeth's  reference  to  her 
motherly  experience ;  and  in  the  fierce  distress  of  Banquo  at 
the  murder  of  his  children.  His  chief  plot  turning  upon  the 
parental  emotions  is  in  Lear ;  and  the  management  is  deeply 
tragic,  the  intensity  of  the  emotion  being  shown  exclusively 
on  that  side. 

The  bereaved  Constance,  in  Kinrf  John,  combines  the 
hyperboles  of  grief  with  touches  of  tender  remembrance  : — 

Grief  fills  the  room  up  of  my  absent  child. 
Lies  ill  his  bed,  walks  up  and  down  with  me, 
Puts  on  his  pretty  looks,  repeats  his  words, 
Kemembers  me  of  all  his  gracious  parts, 
Stuffs  out  his  vacant  garments  with  his  form. 

Wordsworth,  in  the  *  Address  to  my  Infant  Daughter 
Dora,'  the  child  being  a  month  old,  is  too  much  carried 
away  with  the  lunar  resemblance,  and  works  up  in  but  a 
very  slight  degree  the  features  of  infancy. 

Mild  offspring  of  infirm  humanity. 

Meek  Infant !  among  all  forlornest  things 

The  most  forlorn. 

This  does  not  come  home  direct  to  the  parental  instinct. 
The  weakness  of  the  infant  is  best  given  under  the  guise  of 
dependence  and  protection. 

The  digression  on  the  Divine  Eternity  does  not  assist 


1G8  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

the  special  theme.  Yet  amends  is  to  some  extent  made  by 
the  striking  contrast  that  immediately  succeeds : — 'Yet  hail 
to  thee,  Frail,  feeble  monthling  !  by  that  name,  methinks. 
Thy  scanty  breathing-time  is  portioned  out  not  idly'.  The 
Indian  mother,  to  whose  outdoor  life  the  moon  is  still  more 
expressive  of  the  infant's  progress,  scarcely  assists  us,  except 
by  aiding  in  a  transition  to  the  higher  maternal  love  of  the 
civilized  life.  The  illustration  of  the  child's  hfe  journey 
by  the  lunar  phases,  although  obviously  suggested  by  the 
fact  that  the  child  was  then  but  one  month  old,  tells  only 
with  an  intense  nature  w^orshipper  like  Wordsworth.  The 
concluding  lines  dwell  on  the  smiles  already  seen  on  the 
child's  face  ;  they  are  styled — 

Feelers  of  love,  put  forth  as  if  to  explore 
This  untried  world,  and  to  prepare  thy  way 
Through  a  strait  passage  intricate  and  dim. 

The  future  destiny  of  the  child  is  frequently  included  in  the 
poetic  handling  of  infancy ;  and  is  congenial  to  the  serious- 
ness of  Wordsworth's  view  of  life.  The  effect  seems  to  be 
chilled  by  his  prevailing  habit  of  genei'al  moralizing.  The 
child  is  less  a  personal  interest  to  him  than  an  occasion  for 
sentiments.  Compare  in  this  light  Greene's  '  Sephestia's 
Song  to  her  Child,'  from  the  '  Menophon  '.  The  song  opens 
thus — 

Weep  not,  my  wanton,  smile  upon  my  knee ; 
When  thou  art  old  there's  grief  enough  for  thee. 

There  the  stroke  is  made  direct  upon  characteristic  points 
of  soothing,  by  means  of  the  endearing  '  wanton,'  and  the 
smiling  on  the  mother's  knee. 

In  the  poem  on  '  Michael,'  Wordsworth  handles  the 
feeling  at  its  later  stage,  and  evokes  some  of  the  chief 
circumstances  of  interest : — 

but  to  Michael's  heart 
This  son  of  his  old  age  was  yet  more  dear  .... 
Exceeding  was  the  love  he  bare  to  him, 
His  heart  and  his  heart's  joy ! 

did  Michael  love, 
Albeit  of  a  stem  unbcndiaig  mind, 
To  have  the  yomig-one  in  his  sight,  when  he 
Had  work  by  his  o\\7i  door  .... 
He  with  his  father  daily  went,  and  they 
Were  as  companions,  wh}-  sliould  I  relate 
That  objects  wliich  the  shepherd  loved  before 


PABENTAL  FEELIKG  IN  WORDSWOETH. — TENNYSON.   169 

Were  dearer  now  ?  that  from  the  hoy  there  came 
Feelings  and  emanations — things  whicli  were 
Light  to  the  sun  and  music  to  the  wind  ; 
And  that  the  Old  Man's  heart  seemed  born  again  ? 

It  is  in  the  development  of  the  story  that  the  poet 
brings  us  back  to  Luke's  infancy,  and  depicts  the  parental 
emotions  in  their  primitive  intensity.  This  is  the  narrative 
given  to  Luke  himself : — 

Day  by  day  passed  on, 
And  still  I  loved  thee  with  increasing  love. 

As  the  boy  has  nothing  special  to  recommend  him — 
neither  beauty,  virtues,  talents,  nor  reciprocal  attachment, 
in  any  special  degree,  and  as  he  was  destined  to  incur  a 
grievous  moral  shipwreck,  the  poet's  delineation  represents 
parental  fondness  with  no  more  than  one  special  heightening 
circumstance.  Luke  was  the  only  child  of  the  father's  old 
age.  The  labours  and  sacrifices  of  parents  for  children 
usually  make  a  prominent  feature  in  the  embodiment  of  the 
emotion ;  and  full  justice  is  done  to  it  in  Michael's  story. 

Tennyson  seeks  to  express  the  earliest  form  of  parental 
feeling  in  his  Cradle  Song  in  the  '  Princess '.  It  is  the  song 
of  a  mother  to  her  sleeping  babe  : — 

Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low, 

Wind  of  the  western  sea, 
Low,  low,  breathe  and  blow, 

Wind  of  the  western  sea  1 
Over  the  rolling  waters  go, 
Come  from  the  dying  moon,  and  blow, 

Blow  him  again  to  me  : 
Wliile  my  little  one,  while  my  pretty  one,  sleeps. 

This  tiaists  almost  entirely  to  its  soft  music  and  its 
appropriate  imagery.  There  is  little  of  parental  feeling 
directly  expressed. 

It  is  otherwise  with  the  next  stanza  : — 

Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest, 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon ; 
Best,  rest,  on  mother's  breast, 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon ; 
Father  will  come  to  his  babe  in  the  nest, 
Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  west 

Under  the  silver  moon  : 
Sleep,  my  Little  one,  sleep,  my  pretty  one,  sleep. 

Here  conjugal  and  parental  feeling  are  combined  through- 
out, the  babe  appearing  as  an  object  of  common  affection 


170  FEELING  — EXE  JiirLlFICATION. 

and  a  bond  of  union.  In  the  expression  of  parental  feeling 
there  is,  however,  little  but  the  reiterated  utterance 
of  one  or  two  thoughts ;  but  this  must  be  recognized  as 
natural  to  the  situation,  and  a  correct  representation  of 
motherly  fondness. 

Tennyson  attempts  to  portray  parental  feeling  in  a 
more  advanced  stage  in  'The  Grandmother'.  It  is  the  talk 
of  an  old  woman  to  her  granddaughter,  on  hearing  of  the 
death  of  her  eldest  son.  She  describes  all  his  excellencies 
as  a  child  and  as  a  man,  and  gives  utterance  to  her  parental 
satisfaction  in  contemplating  these.     Thus  : — 

And  Willy,  my  eldest-bom,  is  gone,  you  say,  little  Anne? 
Ruddy  and  white,  and  strong  on  his  legs,  he  looks  like  a  man. 
And  Willy's  wife  has  written :  she  never  was  overwise, 
Never  the  wife  for  Willy :  he  wouldn't  take  my  advice. 

The  spirit  of  the  last  two  lines,  expanded  in  the  next 
stanza,  and  appearing  again,  jars  somewhat  on  the  feeling 
of  parental  afi'ection,  but  is  to  be  defended  as  dramatically 
correct.     The  third  stanza  gives  the  pure  parental  spirit : — • 

Willy,  my  beauty,  my  eldest-bom,  the  flower  of  the  flock  ; 
Kever  a  man  could  fling  him  :  for  Willy  stood  like  a  rock. 
"  Here's  a  leg  for  a  babe  of  a  week !  "  says  doctor  ;  and  he  would 

be  bound. 
There  was  not  his  like  that  year  in  twenty  parishes  round. 

Strong  of  his  hands,  and  strong  on  his  legs,  but  still  of  his  tongue  I 
I  ought  to  have  gone  before  him  :  I  wonder  he  went  so  yomig. 

The  points  selected  for  admiration  are  appropriate  to  the 
speaker;  and  the  parental  partiality  and  satisfaction  well 
depicted. 

A  long  digression  follows,  in  the  manner  of  age  ;  and 
then  she  returns  to  her  children,  whom,  though  all  dead,  she 
almost  feels  to  be  about  her  still : — 

But  as  to  the  children,  Annie,  they're  all  about  me  yet. 

Pattering  over  the  boards,  my  Annie  who  left  mc  at  two — 
I'attcr  she  goes,  my  own  little  Annie,  an  Annie  like  you  : 
Pattering  over  the  boards,  she  comes  and  goes  at  her  will, 
While  Harry  is  in  the  five-acre,  and  Charlie  ploughing  the  hill. 

And  Harry  and    Charlie,  I  hear    them  too — they  sing  to   their 

team  : 
Often  they  come  to  the  door  in  a  pleasant  kind  of  a  dream. 
They  come  and  sit  by  my  chair,  they  hover  about  my  bed— 
1  am  not  always  certain  if  they  be  alive  or  dead. 


ELIZABETH    BARRETT    BROWNING.  171 

P.arental  love  is  thus  embodied  in  the  retrospect  of  early 
life  characteristic  of  age ;  and  it  is  expressed  with  all  the 
more  purity  that  the  commonplace  and  disagreeable  ele- 
ments inseparable  from  actual  life  have  given  place  to  an 
ideal. 

In  one  of  his  latest  'dramatic  monologues,'  'Eizpah,' 
Tennyson  has  given  a  tragic  embodiment  to  the  maternal 
passion.  A  dying  old  woman,  in  the  presence  of  a  visiting 
lady,  maunders  half  unconsciously  over  the  memory  of  a 
wild  son,  who  had  been  taunted  by  *a  lot  of  wild  mates' 
into  '  robbing  the  mail '  and  hanged  for  it.  We  see  that  the 
strain  had  unhinged  her  wits,  that  she  had  been  confined  to 
a  lunatic  asylum,  and,  after  recovery,  released.  It  is  at  this 
point  that  the  characteristic  interest  emerges.  The  poor 
woman  recalls  how,  night  after  night,  in  the  dark  and  the 
wind  and  the  rain,  she  has  gathered  the  bones  of  her  boy 
from  the  gibbet  and  buried  them  '  in  holy  ground  '  : — 

Flesh  of  my  flesh  was  gone,  but  bone  of  my  bone  was  left — 

I  stole  them  all  from  tlie  lawyers— and  you,  will  you  call  it  theft? — 

My  baby,  the  bones  that  had  sucked  me,  the  bones  that  had  laughed 

and  had  cried — 
Theirs?  0  no  !  they  are  mine— not  theirs — they  had  moved  in  my 

side. 

The  climax  of  parental  self-sacrifice  is  reached  when  she 
breaks  out — 

And  if  he  be  lost — but  to  save  my  soul,  that  is  all  you  desire  ; 
Do  you  thiiik  that  I  care  for  my  soul,  if  my  boy  should  go  to  the 
fire. 

In  order  to  obtain  a  full  picture  of  parental  feeling,  we 
require  not  only  the  parent's  own  utterance,  but  also  the 
description  of  the  case  as  it  appears  to  another.  Elizabeth 
Barrett  Browning  has  furnished  this  in  the  picture  of 
Marian's  child  in  Aurora  Leitjh  : — 

There  he  lay  upon  his  back. 
The  yearling  creature,  warm  and  moist  with  life 
To  the  bottom  of  his  dimples, — to  the  ends 
Of  the  lovely  tumbled  curls  about  his  face ; 
For  since  he  had  been  covered  over-much 
To  keep  him  from  the  light-glare,  both  his  cheekg 
Were  hot  and  scarlet  as  the  first  live  rose 
The  shepherd's  heart-blood  ebbed  away  into 
The  faster  for  his  love.     And  love  was  here 
As  instant ;  in  the  pretty  baby-mouth, 


172  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Shut  close,  as  if  for  dreaming  that  it  sucked, 
The  little  naked  feet,  dra-v\Ti  up  the  way 
Of  nestled  birdlmgs  ;  ever^-tliing  so  soft 
And  tender, — to  the  tmy  holdfast  hands, 
Which,  closing  on  a  finger  into  sleep, 
Had  kept  the  mould  of  't. 

The  child  awakes,  and  then — 

Gradually 
He  saw  his  mother's  face,  accepting  it 
In  change  for  heaven  itself  with  such  a  smile 
As  might  have  well  been  learnt  there, — never  moved, 
But  smiled  on,  in  a  drowse  of  ecstasy, 
So  happy  (half  with  her  and  half  with  heaven) 
He  could  not  have  the  trouble  to  be  stirred. 
But  smiled  and  lay  there.     Like  a  rose,  I  said  ? 
As  red  and  still  indeed  as  any  rose. 
That  blows  in  all  the  silence  of  its  leaves, 
Content  in  blowing  to  fulfil  its  life. 

This  is  a  striking  picture  of  infant  lovehness,  such  as  the 
parent  feels,  though  parental  emotion  does  not  directly 
appear.  Dimples,  curls,  glowing  colour,  softness,  and 
helpless  dependence, — all  deepened  by  the  calmness  of  sleep ; 
and  then,  on  the  awakening,  we  have  the  picture  of  quiet, 
peaceful  trust  in  his  mother.  The  whole  is  heightened 
by  elevated  comparisons  and  warm  feeling. 

Campbell  gives  us  the  description  of  a  mother  and  sleep- 
ing infant  in  the  '  Pleasures  of  Hope  ' : — 

Lo  !  at  the  couch  where  infant  beauty  sleeps. 

Her  silent  watch  the  mournful  mother  keeps ; 

She,  while  the  lovely  babo  unconscious  lies, 

Smiles  on  her  slmnbering  child  with  pensive  eyes, 

And  weaves  a  song  of  melancholy  joy— 

"  Sleep,  image  of  thy  father,  sleep,  my  boy  ; 

No  Imgering  hour  of  sorrow  shall  be  thine  ; 

No  sigh  thai  rends  thy  father's  heart  and  mine ; 

Bright  as  his  manly  sire  tlie  son  shall  be 

In  form  and  soul ;  but,  ah  !  more  blest  than  he ! 

Thy  fame,  thy  worth,  thy  filial  love,  at  last, 

Shall  soothe  his  acliing  heart  for  all  the  past — 

With  many  a  smile  my  solitude  repay, 

And  chase  the  world's  ungenerous  scorn  away." 

She  further  pictures  him  weeping  over  her  grave : — 

"  Oh,  wilt  thou  come  at  evening  hour  to  shed 
The  tears  of  ^lemory  o'er  my  narrow  bed?  " 

It  will  be  observed  that  Campbell,  like  Tennyson  (both 
following  Homer),  combines  the  expression  of  parental  with 


PARENTAL  FEELING  IN  CAMPBELL. — VICTOR  HUGO.   173 

conjugal  love.  He  does  not  attempt  any  picture  of  the 
child  :  '  infant  beauty,'  '  lovely  babe  unconscious,'  *  slum- 
bering child,'  are  quite  general.  He  depends  on  the  utter- 
ance of  the  mother's  feelings,  which  he  confines,  however,  to 
her  expectations  of  her  child's  future  (in  harmony  with  the 
purpose  of  his  poem),  while  deepening  the  impression  by  a 
suggestion  of  the  mother's  past  unhappiness. 

The  lines  that  follow  portray  parental  affection  in  its 
more  advanced  forms  : — 

So  speaks  affection,  ere  the  infant  eye 

Can  look  regard,  or  brighten  in  reply  ; 

But  when  the  cherub  lip  hath  learnt  to  claim 

A  mother's  ear  by  that  endearing  name  ; 

Soon  as  the  playful  innocent  can  prove 

A  tear  of  pity,  or  a  smile  of  love. 

Or  cons  his  murmuring  task  beneath  her  care, 

Or  lisps  with  holy  look  his  evening  prayer, 

Or  gazing,  mutely  pensive,  sits  to  hear 

The  mournful  ballad  warbled  in  his  ear  ; 

How  fondly  looks  admiring  Hope  the  while, 

At  every  artless  tear,  and  every  smile  ! 

How  glows  the  joyous  parent  to  descry 

A  guileless  bosom,  true  to  sympathy ! 

The  object  here  is  to  select  such  points  in  the  child's 
advancement  as  indicate  responsiveness  to  the  parent's 
influence,  and  thus  deepen  affection — looks,  speech,  tears, 
smiles  ;  and  then,  at  a  later  stage,  we  have  the  services 
rendered  by  the  mother,  which  knit  her  more  closely  to 
him — helping  him  in  his  tasks,  listening  to  his  '  evening 
prayer,'  and  drawing  out  his  sympathies  by  the  '  mournful 
ballad '.  The  partial  hope  of  the  parent's  spirit  shines 
through  all,  and  '  fondly  looks  admiring '. 

The  selection  of  points  is  suitable  to  the  purpose  in  view, 
and  parental  feeling  is  well  represented  so  far  as  was  required 
for  that  purpose.  The  passage  is  more  elevated  than  Mrs. 
Browning's,  but  is  without  the  same  warm  sympathetic 
feeling  of  love  to  childhood. 

Victor  Hugo  treats  the  parental  relation  in  its  various 
aspects.     The  following  is  an  example  : — 

That  brow,  that  smile,  that  cheek  so  fair. 
Beseem  my  child,  who  weeps  and  prays  ; 
A  heavenly  spirit  guards  her  ways, 
Prom  whom  she  stole  that  mixture  rare, 
Through  all  her  features  shining  mild  ; 
The  poet  sees  an  angel  there. 
The  father  sees  a  child. 


174  FEELING —EXEMPLIFICATION. 

This   is   almost   exclusively   the   working  of   distinguished 
personal  charms,  which  are  not  essential,  although  helpful. 
He  dwells  next  on  the  eyes,  as  a  lover  would  describe  a 
mistress : — 

And  by  their  flame,  so  pure  and  bright, 
We  see  how  lately  those  sweet  eyes 
Have  wandered  down  from  Paradise, 
And  still  are  lingering  in  its  light. 

To  illustrate  the  miniature  beauties  of  the  infant  person  is 
one  of  the  standing  devices  for  evoking  the  charm  of  infancy ; 
yet  it  is  neither  the  natural  point  of  departure,  nor  the  most 
ell'ectual  mode  of  appeal. 

The  maternal  emotions  are  bodied  forth  thus  : — 

See  all  the  children  gathered  there, 
Their  mother  near  ;  so  young,  so  fair, 
An  elder  sister  she  might  be. 

This  last  point  is  taking  an  unfair  advantage  ;  a  mother  is 
not  usually  so  full  of  charms.  The  next  stanza  is  more  to 
the  purpose  : — 

She  wakes  their  smiles,  she  soothes  their  cares, 
On  that  pure  heart  so  like  to  tlieirs. 

Her  spirit  with  such  life  is  rife, 
That  in  its  golden  rays  we  see, 
Touched  into  graceful  poesy. 

The  dull,  cold  commonplace  of  life. 

A  fair,  but  not  a  remarkably  full  or  brilliant  handling  of 
those  motherly  assiduities  that  give  evidence  and  expression 
of  her  love  emotions. 

Hugo  is  more  profuse  in  a  picture  he  gives  of  paternal 
love ;  but  he  draws  too  exclusively  on  the  special  accident 
of  the  child's  being  the  only  one  of  a  widowed  father.  After 
exhausting  that  situation,  he  has  a  few  touches  of  properly 
infantile  interest : — 

Innocence  still  loves 

A  brow  unclouded  and  an  azure  eye  ; 

To  me  thou  seem'st  clothed  in  a  holy  halo, 

^ly  soul  beholds  thy  soul  through  thy  fair  body ; 

Even  when  my  eyes  are  shut,  I  see  thee  still. 

This  contrives  to  bring  together  points  of  genuine  interest 
— the  innocence,  the  beauty  of  feature,  aggrandized  by  an 
elevating  image,  and  the  rapt   engrossment  of  the  mind. 
What  follows  is  an  example  of  overdone  hyperbole  :  — 
Thou  art  my  day-light,  and  sometimes  I  wish 
That  heaven  had  made  me  blind  that  thou  might'st  be 
The  sun  that  lighted  up  the  world  for  me. 


Swinburne's  study  of  a  baby.  175 

The  similes  are  all  in  keeping,  but  so  common  that  they 
need  to  be  used  with  more  reserve. 

The  following  is  by  Swinburne,  and  is  entitled  '  Etude 
Eealiste ' : — 

I. 

A  baby's  feet,  like  sea-shells  pink, 

Might  tempt,  should  heaven  see  meet, 
An  angel's  lips  to  kiss,  we  think, 
A  baby's  feet. 

Like  rose-hued  sea-flowers  toward  the  heat 

They  stretch  and  spread  and  wink 
Their  ten  soft  buds  that  part  and  meet. 

No  flower-bells  that  expand  and  shruik 

Gleam  half  so  heavenly  sweet. 
As  shine  on  life's  mitrodden  brink 
A  baby's  feet. 


A  baby's  hands,  like  rose-buds  furled 

Where  yet  no  leaf  expands, 
Ope  if  you  touch,  though  close  upcurlcd, 
A  baby's  hands. 

Then,  fast  as  warriors  grip  their  brands 

When  battle's  bolt  is  hurled, 
They  close,  clenched  hard  like  tightening  bands. 

No  rose-buds  j^et  by  dawn  impearled 

Matcii,  even  in  loveliest  lands, 
The  sweetest  flowers  in  all  the  world — 
A  baby's  hands. 


A  baby's  eyes,  ere  speech  begin, 
Ere  lips  learn  words  or  siglis, 
Bless  all  things  bright  enough  to  win 
A  baby's  eyes. 

Love,  while  the  sweet  thing  laughs  and  lies, 

And  sleep  flows  out  and  in. 
Sees  perfect  in  them  Paradise  ! 

Their  glance  might  cast  out  pain  and  sin, 

Their  speech  make  dumb  the  wise, 
By  mute  glad  godhead  felt  within 
A  baby's  eyes. 

2.  The  reciprocal  affection  of  children  to  parents, 
as  it  is  without  an  instinctive  basis,  must  be  traced 


176  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

solel}'-    to   the   situation;    being  a  growth   resembhng 
ordinary  friendship. 

It  is  a  common  mistake  to  treat  the  upward  regards  of 
child  to  parent  as  having  a  foundation  in  nature  hke  the 
downward  regards  of  parent  to  child.  The  basis  of  the 
reciprocal  feeling  must  be  sought  in  benefits  received,  in 
habitual  companionship,  and  in  community  of  interest. 

There  is  a  beautiful  ideal  in  this  case  too.  The  natural 
prompting  of  parents  leads  them  to  lavish  good  things  on 
their  children ;  and  there  is  an  equally  natural  prompting 
to  respond  with  gratitude,  and  to  contract  likings  for  the 
givers  of  benefits.  The  effect  equally  arises  towards  bene- 
factors generally  ;  but  there  is  no  other  class  of  benefactors 
or  friends  that  can  be  put  in  comparison  with  our  parents. 
In  the  case  of  a  persistent  good  understanding  and  har- 
monious relation  between  parents  and  children,  the  re- 
ciprocal feeling  attains  a  high  pitch  of  intensity,  and  is 
second  only  to  the  sexual  and  parental  emotions  themselves. 
Yet  the  ideal  should  not  be  assumed  as  a  matter  of  course. 
There  are  the  unavoidable  drawbacks  of  authority  and 
restraint,  and  the  frequent  absence  of  the  disposition  or 
the  ability  of  parents  to  contribute  to  the  children's  happi- 
ness. "^^ 

The  same  strain  of  remark  applies  to  the  relationship  of 
brothers  and  sisters  :  a  pure  case  of  habitual  intimacy  and 
exchange  of  good  offices,  although  often  marred  by  rivalries 
and  conflicting  interests,  as  well  as  unsuitability  of  temper.  • 
It  is  allowable  to  hold  up  an  ideal  here,  also,  and  to  point 
to  cases  where  it  is  realized.  But  when  Tennyson  en- 
deavours to  set  forth  the  intensity  of  his  friendship  thus — 

Dear  as  the  mother  to  the  son, 
More  thau  my  brothers  are  to  me — 

he  inverts  the  order  of  strength. 

Cowper's  poem  on  his  mother's  picture  illustrates  some 
of  the  forms  and  expressions  of  filial  affection.  Tbe  feeling 
is  intensified  by  the  sense  of  his  own  loss  in  his  mother's 
early  death,  wliilo  it  is  also  idealized  by  distance. 


'  The  sayitifi  of  Victor  Ilajro— '  Happy  the  son  of  whom  we  can  say  he  has  con- 
soled his  mother  —is  called  l)y  Matthew  Arnold,  '  fustian  ' ;  there  beiii^  nothing  in 
the  language  to  redeem  it  from  maudlin  common-place. 


COWPER    ON   HIS   mother's   PICTURE.  177 

Oh  that  those  lips  had  language  !    Life  has  passed 
With  me  but  roughly  since  I  heard  thee  last. 
Those  lips  are  thine — thy  own  sweet  smile  I  see, 
The  same  that  oft  in  childhood  solaced  me  ; 
Voice  only  fails,  else  how  distinct  they  say, 
"  Grieve  not,  my  child,  chase  all  thy  fears  away  !  " 

The  early  kindness  of  the  mother  is  made  to  express  his 
own  affection  ;  and  the  pictm^e  appropriately  suggests  these 
expressions  of  maternal  tenderness. 

The  poem  passes  on   to  trace   in   vivid   and   touching 
lines  the  grief  of  the  child  over  the  death  of  his  mother : — 

I  heard  the  bell  toll'd  on  thy  burial  day, 
I  saw  the  hearse  that  bore  thee  slow  away. 
And,  turning  from  my  nursery  window,  drew 
A  long,  long  sigh,  and  wept  a  last  adieu  ! 
But  was  it  such  ? — It  was. — Where  thou  art  gone 
Adieus  and  farewells  are  a  sound  unkno\vn. 
May  I  but  meet  thee  on  that  peaceful  shore, 
The  parting  words  shall  pass  my  lips  no  more  ! 
Thy  maidens,  grieved  themselves  at  my  concern, 
Oft  gave  me  promise  of  thy  quick  return. 
What  ardently  I  wished,  I  long  believed, 
And,  disappointed  still,  was  still  deceived. 

The  hearing  of  the  bell,  the  sight  of  the  hearse,  the  last 
view  from  the  nursery  window,  are  natural  and  touching 
expressions  of  the  child's  sorrow  and  love  ;  and  while  the 
pain  is  lessened  by  the  reference  to  the  hope  of  meeting, 
the  love  is  still  further  expressed  by  it.  The  deceptive  ex- 
pectation of  the  mother's  return  is  an  additional  token  of 
continued  affection. 

After  a  digression,  the  poet  returns  to  dwell  on  the  kind 
ofQces  of  his  mother  : — 

Thy  nightly  visits  to  my  chamber  made, 

That  thou  might'st  know  me  safe  and  warmly  laid ; 

Thy  morning  bounties  ere  I  left  my  home, 

The  biscuit  or  confectionary  plum  ; 

The  fragrant  waters  on  my  cheeks  bestow'd 

By  thy  own  hand,  till  fresh  they  shone  and  glow'd  : 

All  this,  and  more  endearing  still  than  all, 

Thy  constant  flow  of  love  that  knew  no  fall, 

Ne'er  roughen'd  by  those  cataracts  and  breaks, 

That  humour  interposed  too  often  makes  ; 

All  this  still  legible  in  memory's  page, 

And  still  to  be  so  to  my  latest  age. 

The  power  of  these  touches  depends  on  their  simplicity  and 
their  appropriateness  to  the  expression  of  maternal  kind- 
9 


178  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

ness  ;    while  they  are  prevented  from  appearing  common- 
place by  the  halo  of  sorrow  and  filial  affection. 

The  whole  passage,  notwithstanding  its  intensity,  leaves 
the  impression  of  genuine  feeling,  and  is  thus  saved  from 
turning  to  sentimental  maudlin. 

In  his  '  Eugby  Chapel,'  Matthew  Arnold  has  composed 
an  elegy  on  his  dead  father.  The  bond  of  filial  affection 
is  brought  out  by  memory  of  the  things  lost  : — 

There  thou  dost  lie,  in  the  gloom 
Of  the  aiitunin  evenmg.     But  ah  ! 
That  word,  g/oom,  to  my  mind 
Brings  thee  back  in  the  light 
Of  thy  radiant  ardour  agam  ; 
In  the  gloom  of  November  we  pasb'd 
Days  not  dark  at  thy  side  ; 
Seasons  impaired  not  the  ray 
Of  thine  even  cheerfulness  clear. 

This  is  all  general,  but  dwells  on  an  inspiring  reality. 

The  dependence  of  children  comes  out  more  directly  in 
the  following : — 

For  fifteen  years, 
We  who  till  then  in  thy  shade 
Rested  as  under  the  boughs 
Of  a  mighty  oak,  have  endur'd 
Sunshine  and  rain  as  we  might, 
Bare,  vmshaded,  alone. 
Lacking  the  shelter  of  thee. 

An  appropriate  heightening  of  the  appropriate  circumstance 
of  fatherly  protection.  The  poem  then  goes  off  in  the  con- 
solatory strain,  to  the  effect  that  his  father  may  '  some- 
where, surely,  afar,'  be  carrying  on  his  powers  of  beneficent 
work.  Henceforward,  the  paternal  relation  is  resolved  into 
that  of  an  elder  comrade  in  the  stormful  mountain-journey 
of  life  and  thought : — 

We  were  weary,  and  we 
Fearful,  and  we  in  our  march 
Fain  to  drop  down  and  to  die. 
Still  thou  turncdst,  and  still 
Beckoned'st  the  trembler,  and  still 
Gavest  the  weary  thy  hand. 

The  appeal,  here,  is  to  a  real  situation,  but  loses  by  the  few- 
ness of  those  that  can  respond  to  it,  though  the  familiar 
figure  of  a  dillJcult  journey  makes  it  easier  to  comprehend. 


GROUNDWOEK    OF   ATTACHMENT    BETWEEN    FRIENDS.       179 

FRIENDSHIP. 
Attachments,  occasionally  of  great  power,  spring  up 
between  persons  of  the  same  sex  unrelated  by  blood. 
These  have  given  birth  to  celebrated  poetic  situations. 

Intense  friendships  between  those  of  the  same  sex  have 
been  known  in  all  ages.  They  occur  in  celebrated  examples, 
both  historical  and  fictitious.  In  Greece,  the  sentiment  of 
men  for  men  was  often  more  powerful  than  the  strongest 
attachments  between  the  sexes. 

In  the  Iliad  we  have  the  attachment  of  Achilles  and 
Patroclus  ;  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  friendship  of  David 
and  Jonathan.  In  both  cases  the  poetic  handling  is  founded 
on  the  pathetic  termination. 

The  groundwork  of  the  attachment  may  be  found  in  one 
or  other  of  the  following  circumstances  :— 

(1)  Personal  fascination, — sometimes  explicable  by  per- 
sonal beauty  or  charm  on  one  side ;  at  other  times  having 
no  assignable  cause. 

(2)  Companionship,  with  the  rendering  of  mutual  sym- 
pathy and  good  offices. 

This  position  is  at  its  highest  when  one  is  able  to  supply 
what  the  other  most  needs  and  desires.  The  kind  of  differ- 
ence that  excludes  rivalry,  and  renders  possible  the  utmost 
support  from  each  to  the  other,  is  eminently  favourable. 

The  liking  of  men  for  men,  and  of  women  for  women,  is 
aided  by  the  more  intimate  knowledge  of  each  other's  pecu- 
liarities and  situations.  Such  friendships  are  a  part  of  our 
life  no  less  than  the  family  affections ;  and  the  highest 
ideals  enter  into  poetry. 

Although  not  a  frequent  occurrence,  the  emotions,  when 
roused  by  a  rich  aggregate  of  favouring  circumstances,  will 
rise  to  a  degree  of  intensity  equal  to  the  sexual  feeling  at  its 
utmost  pitch,  when  the  characteristics  are  scarcely  distin- 
guishable from  the  state  of  love.  Although,  in  sucla  a  case, 
the  poet  seems  justified  in  raising  the  one  to  the  level  of  the 
other,  he  has  to  encounter  the  reader's  reluctance  to  accept 
so  elevated  a  standard.  Most  minds  can  respond  to  the 
feeling  of  sexual  love  when  powerfully  rendered  ;  but  not  to 
the  same  lofty  representation  of  friendship. 

The  friendship  of  Achilles  and  Patroclus  in  the  Ilidd  is 
depicted  solely  by  the  furious  grief  of  Achilles  when  Patro- 


180  FEELING — EXEMFLIFICATION. 

clus  is  slain.  We  hear  nothing  of  the  personal  charms  or 
amiable  character  of  Pairoclus ;  we  are  not  told  of  the 
supreme  delight  of  Achilles  in  his  companionship ;  but,  after 
the  fatal  issue  of  the  fight  with  Hector,  the  grief  of  Achilles 
is  frantic  :  he  tears  his  hair,  heaps  dust  on  his  head,  curses 
the  hour  of  his  birth.  He  is  compared  to  a  lion  jaging  in 
the  desert  with  anguish  and  fury  at  the  loss  of  his  young. 
He  is  prompted  to  innnediate  and  dreadful  revenge  ;  he  is 
reconciled  to  Agamemnon,  and  thus  the  death  of  Patroclus 
becomes  a  turning-point  in  the  siege.  The  celebration  of 
the  friendship  has  a  purely  warlike  interest,  and  does  not 
come  home  to  the  tender  feelings  of  the  reader. 

There  is  a  touch  of  real  friendship  in  the  tribute  of 
Helen  to  the  slain  Hector.  It  is  an  outpouring  of  simple 
gratitude  for  his  forbearance,  when  others  were  heaping 
reproaches  upon  her  for  her  guilt  and  the  calamities  she  had 
brought  upon  Troy. 

The  Greek  friendship  between  an  elder  and  a  younger 
person  is  celebrated  in  many  compositions.  Theocritus 
illustrates  the  sentiment  in  the  tale  of  Hercules  and  Hyhis. 
The  emotions  of  love  felt  by  Hercules  towards  the  young 
man  are  expressed  after  the  mature  art  of  erotic  Greek 
poetry  : — 

"  Even  the  brazen-hearted  son  of  Aniphytrion.  who 
withstood  the  fierceness  of  the  lion,  loved  a  youth,  the 
charming  Hylas,  and  taught  him  like  a  father  everything  by 
wliich  he  might  become  a  good  and  famous  man ;  nor  would 
he  leave  the  youth  at  dawn,  or  noon,  or  evening,  but  sought 
continually  to  fashion  him  after  his  own  heart,  and  to  make 
him  a  right  yokefellow  with  him  in  mighty  deeds  ". 

Here  we  have  the  circumstances  of  enti-anced  companion- 
ship and  devoted  attention,  the  highest  symptoms  of  love  in 
all  ages. 

Not  the  least  remarkable  delineation  of  this  ecstatic 
sentiment  of  male  friendship  is  afforded  in  the  two  Dialogues 
of  Plato,  n  anied  '  Phaedrus  '  and  '  Symposium  '.  So  special 
and  marked  is  the  handling  of  the  passion  by  the  great 
pliilosopher,  that  it  has  ever  since  borne  his  name. 

The  inspiring  cause  of  the  passion  with  Plato  is  solely 
the  beauty  of  the  youthful  form,  which  is  exhibited  in  the 
naked  exercises  of  the  palasstra.  Nothing  is  said  of  mental  at- 
tractiveness, although  when  the  affection  is  once  contracted, 
its  mutual  character  may  be  supposed :  the  youth  responding 


FEIENDSHIP — SHAKESPEARE. — MILTON. — BUBNS.         181 

to  the  extraordinary  devotion  that  he  has  awakened.  Plato 
ideahzes  the  situation  by  supposing  that  the  two  lovers 
engage  in  philosophical  studies  together,  the  elder  devoting 
himself  to  the  improvement  of  the  younger,  as  Hercules 
did  with  Hylas.  But  in  actual  history,  these  friendships, 
when  they  occurred,  were  characterized  by  mutual  heroic 
devotion  to  the  death  ;  whence  they  became  a  power  in  war, 
and  a  terror  to  despots.  Disparity  of  years,  and  the 
personal  beauty  of  the  younger,  entered  into  Plato's  friend- 
ship, but  were  not  universal  accompaniments  of  the  passion. 

The  age  of  Elizabeth  witnessed  the  poetic  celebration  of 
friendship  on  a  very  great  scale.  (See  Professor  Minto's 
English  Poets,  p.  215.)  Shakespeare  is  a  conspicuous  example. 
The  susceptibility  to  male  friendship  seemed  one  of  his 
special  characteristics.  He  has,  in  consequence,  given  it 
poetical  embodiment,  occasionally  in  his  plays,  and  markedly 
in  his  sonnets.  The  type  is  almost  purely  Platonic.  The 
attraction  of  the  beautiful  youth  of  the  sonnets  is  personal 
charm,  which  is  described  with  all  the  fulness,  and  almost 
with  the  very  epithets,  of  beauty  in  women.  The  sonnets 
contribute  to  erotic  embodiment  rather  than  to  such  an 
ideal  of  friendship  as  we  should  prefer  to  see  expressed, 
having  a  character  and  nobility  of  its  own,  instead  of  being 
an  objectionable  imitation  of  sexual  love. 

The  Lycidas  of  Milton  is  a  tribute  to  friendship  inspired 
by  the  calamity  of  loss.  The  language  of  mourning  is  given 
in  Milton's  manner,  and  the  circumstances  attending  the 
disaster  are  rendered  in  the  terms  of  ancient  mythology. 
The  lines  where  he  celebrates  the  companionship  of  the  two 
at  Cambridge  are  an  adaptation  of  the  pastoral,  by  which 
they  are  treated  as  fellow- shepherds  : — 

For  we  were  nursed  upon  the  self-same  hill. 
Fed  the  same  flock,  by  fountain,  shade  and  rill. 

The  whole  passage  is  too  fanciful  to  impress  us  with  an 
ideal  picture  of  friendship.  The  poem  might  have  been 
devoted  to  the  memory  of  any  college  companion  suddenly 
cut  off  by  a  disaster  ;  and  it  is  not  on  the  representation  of 
friendship  that  its  greatness  depends. 

The  emotional  temperament  of  Burns  bursts  forth  in  his 
friendships;  and  these  are  occasionally  the  subject  of  his 
poetic  pen.  His  Epistles  to  friends  overflow  in  geniality  and 
kindness  : — 


182  FEELIKG — EXEiirLIFICATION. 

Content  with  you  to  make  a  pair 
Wharc'er  I  gang. 
In  occasional  touches,  he  reverts  to  the  theme,  as  in 
'  Tarn  O'  Shanter '  :— 

And  at  his  elbow,  Souter  Johnny, 
His  ancient,  trusty,  drouthy  crony  ; 
Tarn  lo'ed  liim  like  a  vera  brither — 
They  had  been  fou  for  weeks  thegither. 
Cowper  is,  by  pre-eminence,  the  poet  of  friendship.     He 
is  wanting  in  purely  erotic  effusions.     His  own  private  life 
was  made  up  of  intense  friendships,  which  he  celebrated  in 
every  form,  and  with  all  the  arts  suited  to  their  illustration. 
His  gratitude  for  the  long-continued  kindness  of  Mrs.  Unwin 
is  poured  forth  in  the  poem  '  To  Mary  '.     Since  he  feels  that 
she  is  nearing  her  end,  he  mingles  pathos  with  the  strain. 
The  twentieth  year  is  well-nigh  past 
Since  first  our  sky  was  overcast ; — 
Ah  would  that  this  might  be  the  last ! 

My  Mary ! 
The  daily  offices  of  kindness  and  attention   make   the 
first  essential  in  the  picture  of  friendship.     Nevertheless, 
as  the  consequence  of  the  duration  of  the  good  offices,   a 
disinterested  feeling  has  grown  up  ;  the  tennination  corre- 
sponding to  the  beginning  of  love  in  the  sexes,  and  yielding 
the  strongest  fascination  of  personal  companionship.     Such 
friendship  between  opposite  sexes  is  barely  distinguishable 
from  the  happiest  examples  of  the  conjugal  relation. 
Thy  silver  loclcs,  once  auburn  bright, 
Are  still  more  lovely  in  my  sight 
Than  golden  beams  of  orient  light. 

My  jMary  1 

For  could  I  view  nor  them  nor  thee, 
'What  sight  wortli  secmg  could  I  see  ? 
The  sun  would  rise  in  vain  for  me, 

My  :Mary ! 
The  tokens  of  affection  on  her  part  are  dehcately  intro- 
duced so  as  to  heighten  the  picture. 

Partakers  of  thy  sad  decline, 

Thy  hands  their  little  force  resign ; 

Yet  gently  press'd,  j^rcss  gently  mine, 

My  IMary  I 

And  still  to  love,  though  press'd  with  ill, 
In  wintry  age  to  feel  no  chill, 
With  me  is  to  bo  lovely  still, 

IMy  ]\Iai7  ! 


AFFECTIONATE  RELATION  OF  MASTER  AND  SERVANT.   183 

There  is  nothing  wanting  in  the  expression  of  tender 
friendship,  except  surroundings.  Had  the  composition  been 
a  more  purely  artistic  effort,  these  would  have  been  sup- 
plied. In  the  Task,  the  circumstantials  of  the  poet's  daily 
life  are  wrought  up  to  the  highest  point  of  interest  as  a 
domestic  interior  whose  groundwork  is  the  relationship  of 
friends. 

A  touching  picture  of  friendship  is  given  in  the  closing 
stanzas  of  Gray's  '  Elegy  '.     The  single  line — 

Large  was  his  bounty,  and  his  soul  sincere — 

speaks  a  volume  of  friendly  attractiveness. 

We  may  append  to  this  head  the  occasionally  affec- 
tionate relation  of  Master  and  Servant,  Patron  and  De- 
pendent, Superior  and  Inferior,  Teacher  and  Pupil.  The 
relationship,  in  these  instances,  becomes  tender,  on  the 
same  grounds  as  friendship,  by  the  mutual  interchange  of 
good  offices  and  services,  beyond  what  is  strictly  bargained 
for.  The  picture  of  Eumaeus  in  the  Odijsspy  is  the  cele- 
bration of  fidelity  on  the  part  of  the  servant  to  his  master. 
It  recalls  the  faithful  steward  of  Abraham,  and  the  captive 
maiden  in  the  service  of  Naaman  the  Syrian,  by  whose 
advice  he  was  cured  of  his  leprosy. 

The  domestic  (slave  or  servant)  necessarily  appears  in 
epic  and  dramatic  poetry,  and  performs  many  parts.  The 
ideal  of  fidelity  is  an  occasional  type,  but  is  rarely  worked 
up  with  high  poetic  art ;  nor  would  it  exhibit  any  novelty 
in  the  devices  employed.  Numerous  varieties  of  the  servant 
class  are  given  in  Shakespeare.  The  attached  domestic 
in  the  old  Scottish  families  is  depicted  by  Scott. 

All  the  business  relations  of  life  are  softened  by  the 
operation  of  the  same  disposition  to  mutual  services,  irre- 
spective of  the  bare  fulfilment  of  contracted  obligations. 
The  poet  occasionally  aids  the  moralist  in  setting  forth  the 
value  of  this  element  of  human  happiness. 

GEEGAEIOUSNESS.— PATEIOTISM. 

Under  Strength,  reference  was  made  to  the  power  of 
collective  masses,  which  represent  the  highest  form  of 
human  might.  Another  view  needs  to  be  taken  of  the  same 
fact.     Apart  altogether  from  the  exercise  of  power,  there  is 


184  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

a  charm  or  fascination  in  the  presence  of  Numbers,  ■which 
penetrates  our  whole  hfe.  Besides  forming  attachments  to 
individuals,  under  the  strong  instincts  of  sex  and  parentage, 
and  by  virtue  of  reciprocated  services,  we  take  dehght  in 
encountering  even  indifferent  persons,  when  they  are  aggre- 
gated in  numbers,  small  or  large.  In  the  family  gathering, 
there  are  individual  attachments,  and  also  the  influence  of 
collectiveness.  As  the  sphere  of  society  is  enlarged,  the 
thrill  of  numbers  is  increased,  notwithstanding  the  diminu- 
tion of  individual  regards.  The  periodical  gatherings  of 
villages,  townships, — are  regular  institutions,  connected  with 
religion,  public  business  or  amusements  :  and  the  ostensible 
pm'pose  is  often  the  smallest  part  of  the  attraction. 

Even  the  physical  gratifications  of  life  are  notoriously 
heightened  by  sociable  participation.  The  hilarity  of  a  feast 
is  only  partly  due  to  the  pleasure  of  the  table.  The  out- 
bursts of  joyousness  usually  reach  their  highest  strain  in 
the  company  of  a  multitude.  The  vast  assemblies  brought 
together  by  military  array,  by  games,  festivals  or  popular 
demonstrations,  have  a  thrilling  effect  on  every  individual. 

The  case  of  sociable  emotion  is  not  overlooked  in  art 
representations.  The  painter  includes  among  his  subjects 
the  gatherings  of  numbers  in  armies,  and  popular  congrega- 
tions in  every  form.  Poetry  also  embraces  the  topic,  al- 
though it  is  very  apt  to  be  merged  in  the  fighting  interest  of 
hostile  masses.  Milton  repeatedly  pictures  the  vastness  of 
his  hosts,  both  angelic  and  Satanic,  without  reference  to 
their  being  actually  engaged  in  combat.  There  is  a  mode  of 
description  suited  to  awaken  the  thrill  of  numbers,  without 
the  more  exciting  inspiration  of  war-like  strength.  To  see 
this  in  its  purity,  we  have  to  refer  to  the  delineation  of 
peaceable  gatherings  for  a  conimon  object,  as  festivals  and 
games.  In  quoting  the  legends  of  Delos,  as  embodied  in 
the  Homeric  Hymn  to  Apollo,  Grote  pictures  the  games 
periodically  held  at  Delos  in  honour  of  the  god.  The  ex- 
pressions chosen  are  carefully  suited  to  make  us  ideally 
present  at  a  splendid  gathering,  and  to  recall  something  of  the 
thrill  of  numbers,  as  we  may  have  actually  experienced  it : 
— '  The  promise  made  by  Leto  to  Delos  was  faithfully  per- 
formed :  amidst  the  numberless  other  temples  and  groves 
which  men  provided  for  him,  he  ever  preferred  that  island 
as  his  permanent  residence,  and  there  the  loniatis  with  their 
wives  and  children,  and  all  their  "  bravery,"  congregated  perio- 


THBILL    OP    NUMBEES.  185 

dically  from  their  different  cities  to  glorify  him.  Dance  and 
song  and  athletic  contests  adorned  the  solemnity,  and  the 
countless  ships,  wealth,  and  grace  of  the  inultifiidininis  lonians 
had  the  air  of  an  assemhlij  of  gods.  The  Delian  maidens, 
servants  of  Apollo,  sang  hymns  to  the  glory  of  the  god,  as 
well  as  of  Artemis  and  Leto,  intermingled  with  adventures 
of  foregone  men  and  women,  to  the  delight  of  the  listening 
croivd.'  The  language  is  at  every  point  suggestive  not  only 
of  multitude,  but  of  selectness  and  distinction,  by  which  the 
influence  of  numbers  is  greatly  heightened. 

The  art  of  representing  social  gatherings  has  reached  a 
high  development  in  our  time.  The  newspaper  report  of  a 
great  public  ceremonial  or  amusement  studies  every  con- 
trivance of  language  that  can  give  impressiveness  to  the 
delineation.  The  chief  Rhetorical  maxim  in  connexion  with 
the  art  is  to  consider  scenic  description  in  the  first  instance, 
while  qualifying  that  by  the  exhibition  of  numerical  array. 
To  this  is  added  the  minute  picturing  of  a  few  select 
portions  and  incidents,  which  assist  in  vivifying  the  whole, 
and  put  the  reader  nearly  in  the  position  of  the  spectator. 
The  extent  and  form  of  the  aggregate  mass  can  be  given  in 
the  first  instance  by  literal  phraseology,  and  be  afterwards 
augmented  by  all  the  circumstances  that  suggest  a  multi- 
tudinous host  and  the  variety  of  its  active  manifestations. 

The  picturing  of  Numbers  with  a  view  to  awakening  the 
gregarious  thrill  is  a  suiting  introduction  to  the  literary  em- 
bodiment of  the  Patriotic  form  of  tender  interest.  The 
sentiment  towards  our  country  and  fellow-countrymen  con- 
tains a  portion  of  this  interest  along  with  purely  egotistic 
feeling, 

A  small  amount  of  Tender  interest  mingles  with 
more  pm-ely  egotistic  feelings  in  the  sentiment  towards 
country  and  fellow-countrymen. 

Common  interests,  companionship,  sympathy  and  mutual 
good  offices  engender  a  kind  and  friendly  regard  towards 
neighbours,  co-members  of  societies  small  and  great,  and 
fellow-subjects  of  the  same  political  body  ;  allowance  being 
made  for  rivalry  and  partisanship,  which  operate  to  cause 
alienation  and  hatred. 

It  is  the  business  of  the  poet  to  look,  by  preference,  on 


186  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

the  amicable  side  of  human  beings  united  in  society,  and  to 
shape  ideals  accordingly. 

The  poetiy  of  patriotic  sentiment  has  most  frequently 
taken  the  form  of  rousing  to  arms  in  case  of  attack  from 
without.  This  is  a  species  of  oratory,  using  the  form  of 
verse  for  readier  access  to  men's  feelings. 

Poetry  is  also  employed  by  every  nation  to  extol  itself  and 
decry  other  nations.  Such  compositions  can  scarcely  be  said 
to  illustrate  the  art  of  embodying  our  tender  sentiments. 

There  are  some  examples  of  a  purer  treatment  of  patriotic 
regards,  where  love  is  more  conspicuous  than  either  self- 
esteem  or  hatred. 

The  principles  of  effect  are  the  same  as  reign  in  all  the 
species  of  tender  feeling.  They  are  delineations  of  the  objects 
in  such  a  way  as  to  inspire  the  patriotic  interest,  and  the 
further  delineation  of  the  feelings  themselves  as  entertained 
by  individuals  or  by  masses. 

Scott's  splendid  outburst — 

Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead — 
has  almost  the  first  place  in  this  kind  of  poetry.  The 
circumstances  are  chosen  with  felicity,  and  seem  to  sustain 
and  justify  all  the  patriotic  warmth  that  he  exacts  from 
Scotchmen.  He  touches  the  two  most  powerful  chords — 
scenic  grandeurs  and  ancestral  associations.  He  might 
have  added  a  selection  from  the  nation's  historic  names  and 
mighty  achievements,  but  was  satisfied  to  dispense  with  these. 

O  Caledonia  !  stem  and  wild, 
Meet  nurse  for  a  poetic  child  ! 
Land  of  hrown  heath  and  shaggy  wood, 
Land  of  the  mountain  and  the  flood. 
Land  of  my  sires  !  what  mortal  hand 
Can  e'er  untie  the  filial  band 
That  knits  me  to  thy  rugged  strand  ! 
Still  as  I  view  each  wcll-knowai  scene, 
Think  what  is  now,  and  what  hath  been, 
Seems  as,  to  me,  of  all  bei-eft. 
Sole  friends  thy  woods  and  streams  were  left ; 
And  thus  I  love  them  better  still, 
Even  in  extremitj-  of  ill. 
By  Yarrow's  streams  still  let  me  stray, 
Though  none  should  guide  my  feeble  way  ; 
Still  feel  the  breeze  down  Ettrick  break. 
Although  it  chill  my  withered  cheek  ; 
Still  lay  my  head  by  Te%iot  stone, 
Thougli  there,  forgotten  and  alone. 
The  bard  may  draw  his  parting  groan. 


POETRY   OP   PATRIOTISM.  187 

Scott's  handling  is  in  favourable  contrast  to  Burke's 
attempt  to  make  the  British  constitution  an  object  of  tender 
regards.*  The  best  government  hardly  admits  of  being 
viewed  in  this  light ;  and  the  historic  governments  of  Scot- 
land were  far  from  the  best. 

Notwithstanding  the  beauty  of  the  expression,  Cole- 
ridge's lines  can  barely  escape  the  charge  of  maudlin  ;  which 
is  the  necessary  consequence  of  attempting  a  strain  of  feel- 
ing too  high  for  our  sympathies. 

0  Dmne 
And  beauteous  island,  thou  hast  been  my  sole 
And  most  magnificent  temple,  in  the  which 
I  walk  with  awe  and  sing  my  stately  songs,  ' 
Lo\'ing  the  God  that  made  me  ! 

Cowper,  in  the  Task,  Book  II.,  adopts  a  far  juster 
strain  of  patriotic  commendation.  The  following  lines  give 
the  tone  of  the  whole  passage  : — 

England,  with  all  thy  faults  I  love  thee  still, 
My  country  !  and,  while  yet  a  nook  is  left 
Where  English  minds  and  manners  may  be  found, 
Shall  be  constrain'd  to  love  thee. 

He  loves  his  country  better  than  all  others,  though  some 
may  be  fairer  or  more  fruitful ;  and  the  very  sincerity  of 
his  love  makes  him  regret  and  reprove  the  vices  and  follies 
that  appear  among  many  of  his  countrymen.  This  utter- 
ance of  combined  love  and  faithfulness  lends  nev7  force  to 
the  poetry. 

Macaulay  has  realized  a  vivid  picture  of  Eoman  patriot- 
ism in  his  Lays.  In  the  rousing  address  of  Icilius,  historic 
allusions  are  graphically  accumulated,  and  the  objects  of 
domestic  feeling  finely  grouped  thus  : — 

Then  leave  the  poor  Plebeian  his  single  tie  to  life — 

The  sweet,  sweet  love  of  daughter,  of  sister  and  of  wife, 

The  gentle  speech,  the  balm  for  all  that  his  vexed  soul  endures, 

The  kiss,  in  which  he  half  forgets  even  such  a  yoke  as  yours. 

Still  let  the  maiden's  beauty  swell  the  father's  breast  with  pride. 

Burns's  patriotic  effusions  assume  both  warlike  and 
tender  shapes.  Like  Cowper,  he  tempers  his  exultant 
emotions  with  virtuous  wishes  : — 

*  "  In  this  choice  of  inheritance  we  have  ?;iven  to  our  frame  of  polity  the  image 
oi  A  relation  in  hlood  :  binding  up  tiie  constitution  of  our  country  witli  our  rfia;c«J 
doineMic  ties  ;  adopting  our  funtlaineutal  laws  into  the  bosom  of  owr  family  affections  ; 
keeping  inseparable,  and  cherishing  with  the  warmth  of  all  their  combined  and 
viutuaiiy  rejiecled  ckarities,  our  stale,  our  hearths,  our  sepulchres,  and  our  altars." 


183  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

O  Scotia  !  my  dear,  my  native  soil  ! 

For  whom  my  warmest  wish  to  heaven  is  sent  ; 
Long  may  thy  hardy  sons  of  rustic  toil 

Be  hlest  with  health,  and  peace,  and  sweet  content  ! 
And  oh  !  may  heaven  their  simple  lives  prevent 

From  luxury's  contagion,  weak  and  vile  ! 
Then,  howe'er  crowns  and  coronets  be  rent, 

A  virtuous  populace  may  rise  the  while. 
And  stand  a  wall  of  fire  around  their  much-loved  isle. 

Somewhat  similar  is  the  impression  produced  by  Tenny- 
son's— 

Love  thou  thy  land,  with  love  far-brought. 

There  is  the  same  balancing  of  aims  and  feelings,  but  not 
much  tenderness ;  advice  being  the  chief  design  of  the 
poem. 

The  poetry  of  personal  devotion  to  monarchs,  dynasties 
and  great  leaders,  takes  on  more  of  the  character  of  indivi- 
dual attachments.  The  flame  is  kept  up  by  ideal  pictures 
of  excellence,  by  the  stimulus  of  the  cause  represented,  and 
by  the  collective  sympathy  of  multitudes. 

As  a  typical  example  of  this  class  of  literature,  we  may 
cite  the  Jacobite  Songs  of  Scotland.  In  the  majority  of 
these,  there  mingles  also  the  pathos  of  a  lost  cause. 

COMPASSION.-BENEVOLENCE.— CHIVALRY. 

This  is  a  true  case  of  Tender  Regard,  although 
enlarged  in  its  workings,  so  as  to  include  strangers  as 
well  as  those  in  our  own  circle.  The  occasion  of  the 
fealing  is  some  form  of  weakness,  inferiority,  need,  dis- 
tress or  calamity. 

The  most  important  aspect  of  the  Tender  feeling  in  such 
cases  is  its  prompting  to  active  measures  of  i-elief  or  assist- 
ance. There  is  a  luxury  of  Pity  that  goes  no  further,  and 
is  made  a  matter  of  reproach  under  the  name  of  Sentimen- 
tality.    The  poet  cultivates  both  aspects. 

We  nuist  distinguish  this  case  from  the  utterance  of 
Borrow,  without  reference  to  help  or  relief,  which  makes  a 
case  apart  (Pathos). 

The  awakening  of  simple  Pity  supposes  a  picture  of 
need.  The  additional  requisites  are,  (1)  that  the  common 
sympathies  of  mankind  should  be  appealed  to,  and  (2)  that 
the  object  of  pity  should  be  made  to  appear  interesting, 
either  from  merit  or  from  some  attractive  quality. 


Milton's  sonnet  on  the  piedmontese.  189 

Compassion  for  distress  is  not  unfrequently  combined  with 
admiration  of  philanthropic  self-sacrifice.  This  is  exempli- 
fied in  Cowper's  eulogiums  on  Whitfield  (Leuconomus)  and 
Howard.  The  admiration  predominates  over  the  com- 
passionate interest  in  the  subjects  laboured  for. 

Milton's  Sonnet  '  On  the  late  Massacre  in  Piedmont ' 
takes  the  form  of  prayer  for  the  punishment  of  the  oppres- 
sors ;  but  compassion  is  excited  by  touching  references  to 
the  sufferings  inflicted  : — 

Avenge,  O  Lord,  Thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 
Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpme  mountains  cold. 

The  vivid  picture  here  presented  at  once  awakens  our  pity. 
The  language  is  exquisitely  fitted  to  its  purpose ;  as  in  the 
fine  harmony  of  '  the  Alpine  mountains  aAd '.  The  Pro- 
testant sympathies  of  Milton's  readers  would  be  further 
moved  by  what  is  suggested  in  ^  Thy  saiuta'.  The  pictm-e  is 
thus  expanded : — 

Even  them  who  kept  Thy  truth  so  pure  of  old. 
When  all  our  fathers  worship'd  stocks  and  stones, 

Forget  not  ;  in  thy  book  record  their  groans 

Who  were  Thj'  sheep,  and  in  their  ancient  fold 
Slain  by  the  bloody  Piemontese,  that  rolled 
]\Iother  with  infant  down  the  rocks  ;  their  moans 

The  vales  redoubled  to  the  hills,  and  they 
To  heaven. 

Our  interest  is  thus  awakened  by  the  thought  of  their  pure 
faith,  maintained  against  Eome  so  long  ;  while  compassion 
is  deepened  by  the  picture  of  their  cruel  sufferings,  rendered 
vivid  by  the  individualizing  touch  of  rolling  mother  and 
infant  down  the  rocks ;  their  moans  are  not  only  echoed 
among  the  hills,  but  made  to  ascend  to  heaven. 

The  chivalry  of  the  middle  ages  is  avowedly  based  on 
delivering  the  oppressed ;  although  the  interest  is  largely 
made  up  of  erotic  feeling  and  the  punishment  of  oppressors. 
Spenser,  in  the  Faerie  Queene,  exemplifies  all  the  three. 
He  provides  everywhere  highly-wrought  combinations  of 
interesting  distress,  which  his  champions  have  to  rescue 
and  relieve. 

The  feeling  of  compassion  for  the  less  privileged  members 
of  the  human  family  is  appealed  to  in  Pope's  picture  of  the 
North  American  Indian's  religious  ideas  : — 

Lo,  the  poor  Indian  !  whose  rmtutor'd  mind 
Sees  God  in  clouds,  or  hears  Him  in  the  wind ; 


190  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

His  soul,  proud  science  never  taught  to  stray 
Far  as  the  solar  walk,  or  milky  way  ; 
Yet  simple  nature  to  his  hope  has  giv'n, 
Behind  the  cloud-topt  hill,  an  humbler  heaven ; 
Some  safer  world  in  depth  of  woods  embrae'd, 
Some  happier  island  in  the  wat'ry  waste, 
Where  slaves  once  more  their  native  land  behold, 
No  fiends  torment,  no  Christians  thirst  for  gold. 
To  Be,  contents  his  natural  desire, 
Ho  asks  no  angel's  wing,  no  seraph's  fire  ; 
But  thinks,  admitted  to  that  equal  sky, 
His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company. 

All  the  circumstances  are  effective  for  their  purpose  :  the 
simple  ideas  of  the  savage,  the  narrowness  of  his  view,  the 
simplicity  of  his  desires,  his  wish  for  the  company  of  his 
dog — a  combination  of  humility  and  affection  that  greatly 
enhances  our  pity.  The  effect  is  further  assisted  by  the 
penury  and  privation  of  his  present  life,  reflected  in  the 
heaven  that  he  sketches  for  himself  ;  there  being  also  a 
satirical  innuendo  mingled  with  the  humble  aspiration. 

The  passage  as  nearly  realizes  the  tender  emotion  in  its 
purity  as  Pope's  manner  will  allow.  The  language  is  con- 
stantly running  to  embodiments  of  strength,  when  he  wishes 
to  be  pathetic.  He  cannot  suf3iciently  confine  himself  to 
the  vocabulary  and  the  combinations  suitable  to  feeling. 

No  poet  supplies  ampler  feasts  of  pure  pity  than  Chaucer. 
He  often  succeeds  in  painting  distress  in  a  way  to  arouse 
the  emotion  to  its  grateful  point,  and  no  further. 

The  Lower  Animals  are  proper  subjects  of  compassionate 
interest,  in  poetry,  as  well  as  in  actual  life.  Burns's  address 
'  To  a  Mouse  '  is  in  every  way  illustrative.  The  interest  of 
the  litfle  is  w^rought  up  by  help  of  the  copious  diminutives 
of  the  Scottish  dialect.    The  poem  opens  on  this  keynote  ; — 

Wee,  slcekit,  cowrin',  tim'rous  beastie. 

It  frequently  recurs  to  the  thought.  Another  effective 
appeal  is  made  to  our  pity, — the  wrecking  of  a  fellow- 
creature's  constructive  toils  :— 

Thy  wee  bit  housie,  too,  in  ruin  ! 
Its  silly  wa's  the  win's  are  strewin' ! 

Or  again — 

That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  and  stibble 
Has  cost  thee  mony  a  weary  nibble. 


COMPASSIONATE   INTEREST    IN   ANIMALS.  191 

The  spirit  of  compassionate  kindliness  towards  animals, 
without  the  pathetic  elements  present  here,  may  be  seen  in 
the  same  poet's  '  New  Year  Morning  Salutation  to  His  Auld 
Mare  Maggie'. 

There  is  a  fine  tenderness  in  the  faithful  hound's  recog- 
nition of  Ulysses  in  the  Odyssey,  which  is  intensified  by 
the  contrast  to  the  faithlessness  of  some  of  his  human 
dependents.  The  exaltation  of  the  virtues  of  animals  at 
the  expense  of  humanity  is  a  frequently  recurring  device. 

RELIGION. 
1.  The  Tender  Emotion  is  awakened  in  Eeligion 
under  the  following  conditions  : — 

(1)  It  is  a  purely  upward  feeling,  resembling  that  of 
child  to  parent. 

(2)  Its  objects  are  invisible  to  the  eye  of  sense. 
The  inferiority  of  the  upward  feeling  of  child  to  parent, 

as  compared  with  the  downward  feeling  of  parent  to  child, 
is  to  be  taken  into  account  in  evoking  Religious  tenderness. 
As  filial  affection  grows  out  of  benefits  and  affection  received, 
and  the  absence  of  harshness  in  the  exercise  of  authority, 
so  affection  to  the  Deity  must  be  founded  on  a  recognition 
of  Divine  goodness  and  protection. 

The  circumstance  of  the  unseen  nature  of  Deity  gives  an 
entirely  distinct  character  to  the  mode  of  emotional  repre- 
sentation. Idolatrous  nations  have  used  sensible  images ; 
the  spiritual  religions  employ  the  arts  of  language  solely. 
God  is  the  ineffable  source  of  the  universe,  and  His  nature  is 
reflected  from  it. 

Man's  religious  emotion  is  partly  fed  by  regarding  the 
Deity  as  an  object  of  the  highest  Strength,  Power  or 
Subhmity.  This  view  is  usually  alternated  with  the  aspect 
of  Parental  Benignity.  The  two  are  not  incompatible,  pro- 
vided the  severe  adjuncts  of  power  are  kept  in  the  back- 
ground. 

The  mere  idea  of  a  Governor  of  the  World,  requiring 
obedience  and  distributing  punishment  and  reward,  would 
dispense  with  all  emotions  except  those  growing  out  of  self- 
regard.  This  is  not  the  view  that  evokes  our  tender  feelings 
as  such.  It  is  the  prevalent  type  of  religion  apart  from 
Christianity,  but  its  emotion  is  not  love  but  fear :  and  hence 
the  religious  worship  of  most  peoples  is  of  the  nature  of 


192  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

propitiation.  In  order  to  evoke  and  cultivate  the  tender 
feeling,  on  its  agreeable  side,  this  view  must  be  kept  from 
assuming  prominence. 

2.  The  methods  grounded  in  the  foregoing  considera- 
tions, coupled  with  the  general  characteristics  of  Tender 
Feeling,  are  these  : — 

I.  To  set  forth  the  Deity  as  an  object  to  inspire 
love  or  affection. 

II.  To  express  our  owai  feelings,  and  the  feelings  of 
worshippers  generally,  so  as  to  compel  a  sympathetic 
concurrence. 

These  tw^o  are  most  effectively  given  in  separation, 
for  the  fuller  development  of  each. 

III.  To  avoid  intellectual  difficulties,  by  keeping  our 
assertions  within  such  bounds  as  a  listener  will  tolerate. 

IV.  Failing  real  presentation,  or  pictorial  ^dvidness, 
to  conform  to  the  emotional  harmonies  of  the  language 
employed. 

I.  To  set  forth  the  Deity  as  an  object  of  love  or  affec- 
tion. 

In  the  absence  of  direct  vision  of  lovable  or  fascinating 
qualities — such,  for  example,  as  inspire  the  intense  attach- 
ments among  ourselves, — the  modes  of  presentation  are 
mainly  the  following. 

(1)  To  dwell  on  the  aspect  of  Divine  Power,  as  Grandeur, 
Majesty,  Sublimity  and  Elevation.  The  basis  of  x'eference 
here  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  works  of  nature,  which  are 
connected  with  the  Deity  as  their  author,  and  are  there- 
fore the  measure  and  visible  embodiment  of  His  greatness. 
Accordingly,  as  we  can  feel  the  charms  of  natural  grandeur 
and  beauty,  and  can  refer  them  to  a  personal  source,  we 
may  entertain  a  disinterested  admiration  for  that  great  and 
sublime  personality.  Poetry  has  lent  its  aid  to  this  effect ; 
as  will  be  seen  in  the  examples  that  are  to  follow. 

The  second  form  of  Divine  Power  consists  in  represent- 
ing the  world  as  a  kingdom  subject  to  government ;  whence 
is  derived  the  majesty  of  a  monarch  with  all  the  imposing 
attributes  of  rule,  includmg  triumph  over  enemies. 

These  two  aspects  of  power  are,  however,  rarely  found  in 
separation,  and  need  not  be  so  in  order  to  their  full  effect. 
We  have  the  Divine  majesty  in  the  following  : — 


THE    DIVINE    POWER   AND    MAJESTY.  193 

My  God,  how  wonderful  tliou  art, 

Thy  majesty  how  bright ! 
Eow  beautiful  thy  inercy-seat 

In  depths  of  burning  light ! 

How  dread  are  thme  eternal  years, 

O  everlasting  Lord! 
By  prostrate  spirits  day  and  night 
Incessantly  adored. 
Nature  is  used  to  set  forth  the  Divine  majesty  in  this 
example :  — 

O  toll  of  His  might,  0  sing  of  His  grace, 
Whose  robe  is  the  light,  whose  canopy,  space. 
His  chariots  of  wrath  deep  thunder-clouds  form, 
And  dark  is  His  path  on  the  wings  of  the  storm. 

We  have  the  aspect  of  the  Divine  rule  over  the  world  in 
Watts's  Hymn  (a  paraphrase  of  the  100th  Psalm) : — 

Before  Jehovah's  awful  throne, 

Ye  nations,  bow  with  sacred  joy ; 
Know  that  the  Lord  is  God  alone  ; 

He  can  create  and  He  destroy. 

His  sovereign  power,  without  our  aid, 

Made  us  of  clay,  and  formed  us  men. 
And  when,  like  wandering  sheep,  we  strayed, 

He  brought  us  to  His  fold  again. 

The  conception  of  the  Divine  government  attains  its 
highest  form  for  emotional  purposes  in  the  power  and  king- 
dom of  Jesus  Christ.  This  form  has  the  advantages  of 
easier  apprehension,  and  of  heing  united  with  elements  (to 
be  presently  specified)  that  neutralize  the  aspects  of  mere 
terror.  We  see  this  in  the  following  example  : — 
He  comes  in  blood-stained  garments  ; 

Upon  His  brow  a  crown  ; 
The  gates  of  brass  fly  open, 

The  iron  bands  drop  down. 
From  off  the  fettered  captive 

The  chains  of  Satan  fall, 
While  angels  shout  triumphant 
That  Christ  is  Lord  of  all. 

In  the  next  instance  we  have  this  idea  mingling  with  that  of 
the  Divine  reign  over  creation  : — 
Hallelujah  !  hark,  the  sound, 

From  the  depths  unto  the  skies, 
Wakes  above,  beneath,  around. 

All  creation's  harmonies ; 
See  Jehovah's  banner  furled, 

Sheathed  His  sword  :  He  speaks  ;  'tis  done  ; 
And  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 

Are  the  kingdoms  of  His  Son. 


191  FEELING— EXEMrLinCATION. 

(2)  To  expatiate  on  the  Divine  Goodness,  Beneficence, 
Mercy.  This  involves  the  correhxtive  circumstance  of  our 
weakness,  dependence,  habihty  to  suffering.  God  as  fatlier 
is  tlie  utmost  in  this  kind. 

The  Goodness  of  the  Deity  is  also  extracted  from 
Nature,  in  so  ftir  as  beneficent  in  its  workings.  All  our 
earthly  joj'S  are  ascribed  to  the  Author  of  the  universe. 

The  goodness  of  God  in  natural  things  is  thus  expressed 
in  Bishop  Wordsworth's  Hymn,  '  O  Lord  of  heaven' : — 

The  golden  sunshine,  vernal  air, 
Pwcet  flowers  and  fruits  Thy  love  declare  ; 
Where  harvests  ripen,  Thou  art  there, 
Giver  of  all.     " 

For  peaceful  homes  and  healthful  days, 
For  all  the  blessings  earth  disp]a3's, 
We  owe  Thee  thankfulness  and  praise, 
Giver  of  all. 

But  usually,  through  hymns  and  prayers  and  general 
devotional  literature,  the  Divine  goodness  is  represented  in 
more  direct  relation  to  man's  need  of  help  and  succour. 
This  is  an  ever-recurring  theme  of  the  Psalms  :  '  The  Lord 
is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not  want ' ;  'God  is  our  refuge  and 
strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble';  ']  love  the  Lord, 
because  He  hath  heard  my  voice  and  my  supplications'. 
So  also  in  Hymns.     For  example : — 

Guide  me,  0  Thou  great  Jehovah, 
Pilgrim  through  this  barren  land  ; 

I  am  weak,  but  Thou  art  mighty  ; 
Hold  me  with  Thy  powerful  hand. 

And  in  Cardinal  Newman's  well-known  hymn  : — • 

Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 
Tlic  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home, 

Lead  Thou  me  on  I 

Here  comes  a  serious  difficulty.  We  have  many  un- 
doubted pleasures  at  the  hand  of  Nature,  but  also  an  enor- 
mous amount  of  misery.  This  fact  must  be  dealt  with,  and 
the  solution  of  the  difficulty  is  our  sinfulness;  which  becomes 
a  leading  theme  in  Theology,  and  is  treated  in  the  most 
copious  strains  of  poetical  exemplification.  The  love  and 
goodness  of  the  Deity  now  take  the  form  of  providing  a 
Saviour,  being  God  Himself  incarnated.  The  scheme  of 
salvation  ramifies  into  endless  outgoings  of  doctrinal 
expression. 


DIVINE    GOODNESS    INCAENATE.  195 

Among  the  circumstances  favourable  to  the  operation  of 
the  incarnate  Saviour  upon  the  mind,  is  the  human  per- 
sonahty,  which  we  can  substitute  for  the  unseen  Creator. 
A  whole  personal  biography  is  unfolded  with  its  stirring 
incidents,  every  one  of  which  is  seized  and  expanded  in  our 
hymnology  and  sermon  literature.  The  human  affections 
can  be  better  called  forth  through  these  means,  the  Saviour 
being  raised  to  the  rank  of  an  ideal  friend  and  brother  as 
well  as  benefactor  ;  not  the  most  impressive  of  ties,  but 
capa-ble  of  being  cultivated  to  a  high  degree  of  intensity. 

Eeference  may  be  made  to  Keble's  '  Christian  Year,' 
where  the  various  interesting  aspects  of  Christ's  human  life 
are  turned  to  account — His  birth,  baptism,  acts  of  mercy, 
death  and  resurrection.  But  it  is  by  His  death  as  an  act  of 
Divine  self-sacrifice  for  men  that  feeling  is  most  deeply 
stirred ;  and  the  cross  naturally  lends  itself  in  a  great 
variety  of  ways  to  pathetic  and  moving  effects.  Watts's 
stanza  is  an  example  out  of  a  host : — 

See  from  His  head,  His  hands.  His  feet, 
Sorrow  and  love  flow  mingled  downl 

Did  e'er  such  love  and  sorrow  meet. 
Or  thorns  compose  so  rich  a  crown  ? 

Moreover,  these  ideas  are  directly  connected  with  one  who 
is  conceived  as  still  alive  and  still  manifesting  the  same 
loving  attributes. 

The  emotional  power  of  the  human  nature  of  Jesus  may 
be  seen  in  the  fact  that  hymns  referring  to  the  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  are  comparatively  few  and  unimpressive.  The 
reason  is  that  we  have  here  no  human  life  to  touch  us,  as  with 
the  Second  Person  of  the  Trinity,  or  even  a  human  analogy, 
like  the  Fatherhood  of  the  First  Person. 

We  have  to  add  the  Gospel  proclamation,  as  a  jubilee 
to  mankind.  This  may  be  set  forth  with  reference  to  its 
bearing  on  mankind  in  general,  or  in  regard  to  the  blessings 
it  bestows  on  the  individual. 

We  may  again  remark  that  Gratitude  is  not  ordinarily 
a  powerful  emotion,  or  an  approach  to  the  love  affection  in 
its  best  form.  It  is  proverbially  uncertain  and  fitful ;  being 
easily  cooled  by  disappointed  expectations.  Only  in  the 
rarest  cases  does  it  take  possession  of  the  mind  in  the  shape 
of  fascination  with  the  object,  so  as  to  become  the  basis  of 
a  strong  and  enduring  attachment.  We  have  seen  its  severe 
conditions  in  the  love  of  parents  and  in  friendship.     When, 


196  FEELIXG — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

however,  a  man  conceives  of  himself  as  in  deep  need,  and 
beHeves  that  his  need  is  met  by  God  and  the  incarnate 
Saviour,  the  conditions  for  strong  emotion  are  supphed. 

While  the  attributes  of  the  Divine  Being,  directly  or  in- 
directly presented,  must  be  the  fundamental  object  of 
religious  emotion,  there  are  many  subordinate  sources  and 
forms  of  such  feelings.  There  is  the  whole  range  of  the 
Christian  life,  its  various  aspects  and  circumstances  finding 
abundant  expression  in  devotional  literature — its  difficulties 
and  its  duties,  its  soitows  and  its  joys,  its  fears  and  its 
hopes.  The  mystery  and  awfulness  of  death  find  a  place, 
together  with  the  Christian's  hopes  stretching  beyond  it. 
Heaven,  as  the  final  home  and  the  place  of  God's  most 
direct  manifestation,  is  abundantly  celebrated.  The  Church, 
too,  as  the  outward  embodiment  of  Christ's  cause,  and  all 
that  is  connected  with  the  advancement  of  that  cause  and 
the  Christian's  hopes  of  its  ultimate  triumph,  furnishes 
material  for  the  nourishment  of  Christian  feeling. 

II.  So  to  express  our  own  feelings,  and  the  feelings  of 
worshippers  generally,  as  to  induce  a  sympathetic  concur- 
rence in  those  addressed. 

Even  when  men  do  not  feel  themselves,  they  are  drawn 
by  sympathy  with  their  fellows.  Hence,  to  express  strongly 
what  is  felt  by  others,  is  a  means  of  awakening  our  dormant 
sensibilities.  The  hymnology  provides  largely  for  this 
influence.  The  usual  conditions  of  all  modes  of  address  to 
the  feelings  must  be  complied  with ;  the  language  to  be 
adequate,  and  if  possible  poetically  original,  and  not  stronger 
than  the  hearer  can  accept. 

We  may  refer  to  Addison  under  this  head  : — 

When  all  Thy  mercies,  0  my  God, 

]\Iy  rising  soul  surveys, 
Transported  with  the  view,  I'm  lost 

In  wonder,  love,  and  praise. 

This  stanza  is  complete  in  itself.  It  gives  first  the  attribute 
of  goodness,  and  next  the  response  ;  the  language  being 
ecstatic  in  its  force.  But  looking  at  the  hymn  as  a  whole, 
we  find  that,  from  stanza  three  onwards,  it  is  made  up  of  a 
series  of  illustrations  of  Divine  goodness,  ending  with  several 
forms  of  supplication.  The  preferable  arrangement  would 
have  been, — first  tlie  examples  of  goodness,  next  the  expres- 
sions of  gratitude,  lastly  the  supplication. 

Instead  of  giving  full  expression  to  the  individual  feel- 


SYMPATHETIC   CONCURRENCE   IN   WORSHIP.  197 

ings,  and  following  that  up  with  the  concurrence  of  fellow- 
worshippers  on  earth,  it  is  not  uncommon  to  rush  at  once 
to  an  invocation  of  the  heavenly  host,  saints  and  angels,  as 
transcendent  examples  of  grateful  adoration. 

Sing  to  the  Lord  with  cheerful  voice, 

From  realm  to  realm  the  notes  shall  sound  ; 

Aiid  Heaven's  exultmg  sons  rejoice 
To  bear  the  full  Hosanna  round. 

Not  satisfied  with  this  lofty  concurrence,  the  hymn-w^riter 
often  summons  inanimate  nature  to  aid  in  the  song  of 
praise ;  thus,  in  a  still  higher  degree,  incurring  the  danger  of 
loss  of  reality,  as  well  as  of  influence  on  our  human  sympa- 
thies : — 

Thy  praise  transported  Nature  sung 

In  pealing  chorus  loud  and  far  ; 
The  echoing  vault  with  rapture  rung, 

And  shouted  every  morning  star. 

In  still  greater  detail  is  the  following  : — 

Ye  clouds  that  onward  sweep, 
Ye  winds  on  pinions  light. 
Ye  thunders,  echoing  loud  and  deep. 
Ye  lightnings,  wildly  bright, 
In  sweet  consent  unite  your  Alleluia  ! 
Ye  floods  and  ocean  billows, 
Ye  storms  and  winter  snow. 
Ye  days  of  cloudless  beauty. 
Hoar  frost  and  sumrner  glow  ; 
Ye  groves  that  wave  in  spring, 
And  glorious  forests  smg. 

The  laudation  in  the  Communion  Service  of  the  liturgy 
makes  an  appeal  to  the  Heavenly  Host  in  language  of 
combined  simplicity  and  grandeur  : — 

"  Therefore  with  angels  and  archangels,  and  with  all 
the  company  of  heaven,  we  laud  and  magnify  Thy  glorious 
name  ;  evermore  praising  Thee,  and  saying.  Holy,  holy, 
holy,  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  heaven  and  earth  are  full  of 
Thy  glory  :  glory  be  to  Thee,  O  Lord  Most  High". 

While  theological  doctrines  must  be  assumed  more  or 
less  as  the  basis  of  thought,  they  should  not  be  directly 
obtruded  except  when  they  have  some  emotional  virtue ; 
and  even  then  the  formal  or  technical  shape  needs  to  be 
avoided.  The  following  example  from  Heber  is  illustra- 
tive ; — 


198  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Holy,  holj',  boly,  Lord  God  Almighty  ! 

All  Thy  works  shall  praise  Thy  name  ua  earth  and  sky  and  sea : 
Holy,  holy,  holy  !  merciful  and  mighty ! 

God  in  Three  Persons,  Blessed  Trinity ! 

The  language  and  the  thought  of  the  first  three  lines  are 
suited  to  the  expression  of  feeling :   not  so  the  last. 

III.  To  avoid  or  obviate  intellectual  doubts  and  difficul- 
ties, it  is  requisite  to  accommodate  the  language  to  the  state 
of  mind  of  the  hearers.  Much  of  the  eloquence  of  the  old 
theologians,  and  even  the  beauty  of  the  hymns  of  early 
ages,  is  now  lost,  from  violating  the  standard  of  credibility 
in  our  generation.  While  the  argument  from  Design  is  still 
generally  received,  the  ancient  modes  of  representing  the 
Divine  Goodness  are  objected  to  by  a  large  number  of  minds. 
Inconsistent  statements  are  called  in  question.  The  Divine 
Government  necessarily  involves  a  severity  of  discipline 
upon  offenders,  w^hich  cannot  be  entirely  kept  out  of  sight. 

Eeligious  feeling,  properly  so  called,  is  of  course  confined 
to  those  already  convinced.  With  these,  the  object  is  so  to 
shape  the  expression  of  the  ideas  as  to  accommodate  them 
to  changed  modes  of  conception. 

IV.  To  conform  to  the  laws  of  emotional  harmony.  The 
education  in  religious  feeling  is  most  dependent  on  hallowed 
associations  with  sacred  objects  in  general,  and  with  lan- 
guage in  particular.  The  emotional  effect  of  representing 
God  as  a  father  is  largely  due,  not  to  our  own  experience  of 
the  relation,  but  to  the  feelings  growing  up  under  the  re- 
peated employment  of  the  term  in  religious  services. 

Eeferring,  for  example,  to  Keble'sHymn  on  Morning,  we 
are  aware  that  we  do  not  realize  the  assertions  made  in  it, 
even  as  pictures  to  the  imagination. 

New  every  morning  is  the  love 
Our  wakening  and  uprising  prove, 
Through  sleep  and  darkness  safely  brought, 
Eestored  to  life,  and  power,  and  thought. 

New  mercies,  each  returning  da}^ 

Hover  around  us  while  we  pray  ; 

New  perils  past,  new  sins  forgiven, 

New  thoughts  of  God,  new  hopes  of  heaven. 

Under  this  condition,  it  becomes  all-important  to  select 
terms  exactly  accommodated  to  the  feelings,  and  to  avoid 
discords  of  language. 


MILTON   ON   THE   DIVINE   ATTKIBUTES.  199 

Peomiscuous  Examples. 

The  poetic  handling  of  the  Divine  attributes  may  be 
studied  in  Paradise  Last.  The  two  passages  at  Book  IV.  720, 
V.  153,  are  pure  Natural  Eehgion.  The  second  is  the  best 
in  point  of  fulness.  We  there  see  the  art  of  awakening 
emotion  by  an  adequate  delineation  of  the  objects,  coupled 
with  the  other  great  device  of  expressing  the  feelings  of 
individual  beholders. 

These  are  Thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  good. 

Almighty  1  Thiiie  this  universal  frame, 

Thus  wondrous  fair  :  Thyself  how  wondrous  then  ! 

Unspeakable,  who  sittest  above  these  heavens 

To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 

In  these  Thy  lowest  works  ;  yet  these  declare 

Thy  goodness  beyond  thought,  and  power  Divine. 

This  is  a  grand  comprehensive  assertion  of  Divine  goodness; 
power  being  only  hinted  at.  No  better  adjustment  could  be 
made  to  impress  the  human  feelings  with  the  Divine  nature 
on  its  most  attractive  side.  The  poet  then  calls  in  the  most 
illustrious  of  worshippers,  to  display  their  feelings,  and 
awakens  sympathetic  concurrence  :— 

Speak,  ye  who  best  can  tell,  ye  sons  of  light. 
Angels, — for  ye  behold  Him,  and  with  songs 
And  choral  symphonies,  day  without  night, 
Circle  His  throne  rejoicing — ye  in  heaven. 

Milton  then  reverts  to  the  array  of  the  Universe,  and  recites 
its  glories  in  detail — Sun,  Moon,  Stars,  Elements  of  Nature, 
Clouds,  Winds,  Fountains,  Plants,  Birds,  and  inhabitants  of 
water  and  earth.  Throughout  the  description,  he  is  careful 
to  give  the  grand,  imposing  and  benign  aspects  of  the 
Creator's  might ;  and  ends  with  the  supplication,  in  the  same 
strain — 

Be  bounteous  still 
To  give  us  only  good. 

The  ideal  picture  is  kept  intact,  and  pure  from  any  admix- 
ture of  the  unlovable  displays  of  power.  The  parental 
relation  is  the  setting  of  the  whole. 

More  varied,  but  less  consummate  in  selection  of  parti- 
culars, is  Pope's  '  Universal  Prayer  '. 

The  first  stanza  is  the  most  effective.  The  Poet's 
instinct  tells  him  that  an  intense  expression  of  paternity  is 
one  sure  road  to  the  human  heart: — 


200  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Father  of  all !  in  every  age, 

In  every  clime  adored, 
By  saint,  by  savage,  and  by  sage, 

Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord  ! 

Here,  however,  too  little  is  given  to  the  idea  of  fatherhood. 
A  stanza  might  have  been  devoted  to  it  alone  ;  and  another 
to  the  chorus  of  worshippers.     Pope  prefers  the  human  com- 
pany to  the  celestial  host  of  Milton. 
The  second  stanza  is — 

Thou  great  First  Cause,  least  understood, 

Who  all  my  sense  confined 
To  know  but  this,  that  Thou  art  good, 

And  that  myself  am  blind. 

The  self-surrender  of  the  worshipper  is  here  justified  by  his 
incapability  to  comprehend  the  First  Cause.  As  in  the 
former  stanza,  the  groundwork  is  assumed  without  being 
helped  out  in  any  way.  It  contributes  nothing  to  tender 
regard ;  nevertheless,  the  prostration  of  the  creature  before 
the  Creator  is  a  standing  element  of  the  religious  sentiment. 
Most  of  the  remaining  stanzas  treat  of  moral  duties  and 
sympathies  with  fellow-beings  ;  which  Pope  identifies  with 
religion.  Humility  is  the  prevailing  theme  ;  but  is  imper- 
fectly supported.  The  paternal  benignity  of  God  is  weakly 
expressed,  thus — 

What  blessings  Thy  free  bounty  gives, 
Let  me  not  cast  away  ; 
Or  thus — 

Yet  not  to  earth's  contracted  span 
Thy  goodness  let  me  bound. 

It   is  too  much  to  expect  weak  human  beings  to  extend 
sympathy  to  '  thousand  worlds '  around. 

The  closing  stanza  is  an  appeal  to  the  grandeur  of  the 
Author  of  Nature,  but  scarcely  reaches  the  springs  of  tender 
emotion  : — 

To  Thee,  whose  temple  is  all  space, 

Whose  altar,  earth,  sea,  skies, 
One  cliorus  let  all  Being  raise, 
All  Nature's  incense  rise  1 

This  is  a  middle  iiight  of  mere  power,  equally  removed  from 
its  malignant  and  from  its  benignant  exercise. 

The  vague  conception  of  the  Divine  Being,  which  lies  at 
the  basis  of  the  prayer,  by  leading  to  negation  of  personal 
aspects,  is  highly  unfavourable  to  emotion.  So  also  are 
such  obviously  argumentative  references  as  these  : — 


pope's  universal  prater.  201 

What  blessings  Thy  free  bounty  gives, 

Let  me  not  cast  away  ; 
For  God  is  paid  when  man  receives, 

T  enjoy  is  to  obey. 

Let  not  this  weak,  unknowing  hand 

Presume  Thy  bolts  to  throw. 
And  deal  damnation  round  the  land 

On  each  I  judge  my  foe. 

Pope's  few  attempts  at  sacred  composition  are  gi-eatly 
surpassed  by  the  well-known  hymns  of  Addison.  The 
version  of  the  19th  Psalm  is  felt  at  once  to  be  the  work  of 
a  master.  It  portrays  the  Deity  on  the  side  of  creative 
majesty,  in  the  only  way  that  this  can  be  made  effective, 
that  is.  by  a  highly  impressive  representation  of  the  grandeur 
and  sublimity  of  nature. 

Its  three  stanzas  possess  a  unity  and  method  very  un- 
usual in  such  compositions ;  and  the  good  effect  is  ap- 
parent. The  theme  is  the  heavenly  bodies,  where  the 
grandeur  and  majesty  of  the  universe  is  most  conspicuous 
and  least  alloyed. 

The  first  stanza  is  mixed.  One  half  is  a  poetical  survey 
of  the  firmament  of  stars  ;  and  the  second  half  is  devoted 
to  the  sun,  whose  rendering  is  a  personification. 

Th'  unweary'd  sun,  from  day  to  day 
Does  his  Creator's  pow'r  disjplay. 

The  second  stanza  is  not  wholly  free  from  the  vice  o\ 
repetition  to  this  extent,  that  the  glories  of  night  are  already 
assumed  in  the  phraseology  of  the  previous  stanza ;  since 
the  '  spangled  heavens '  appear  only  in  the  absence  of  the 
sun : — 

Soon  as  the  ev'ning  shades  prevail. 

The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 

And,  nightly,  to  the  list'ning  earth, 

Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth. 

We  must  excuse  the  want  of  conformity  to  fact  as  regards 
the  moon's  nightly  appearance,  which  is  very  different  from 
what  is  here  stated.  We  are  considering  only  the  rhetorical 
value  of  the  piece  : — 

Whilst  all  the  stars  that  roimd  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

10 


202  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

It  has  been  a  common  fiction  of  poetry  to  make  the  stars 
attendants  on  the  moon ;  and  this  idea  would  have  been 
preferable  here  to  '  burning '  around  her,  a  metaphor  too 
strong  for  a  star  shining  in  the  moonlight.  The  intro- 
duction of  the  planets  completes  the  celestial  host,  although 
these  are  not  very  apparent  to  the  uneducated  mind. 
Nevertheless,  these  are  two  fine  stanzas.  The  iteration  of 
the  idea  of  revealing  the  Creator  is  somewhat  excessive  ;  it 
need  not  have  been  appended  to  the  mention  of  each  class 
of  objects,  but  would  have  had  more  emphasis,  if  given  once 
for  all  at  the  end  of  the  description. 

The  last  stanza  belongs  to  an  age  of  rising  scepticism. 
People  were  beginning  to  ask,  How  do  we  know  that  a 
Creative  Mind  is  the  sole  explanation  of  the  universe  ? 
and  they  pointed  to  the  absence  of  all  visible  signs  of 
personality.  Addison  meets  the  difficulty  in  the  only  way 
it  could  be  met,  and  embodies  the  solution  in  the  same  high 
poetic  strain. 

What  though  in  solemn  silence  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball? 
In  Reason's  car  they  all  rejoice — 

This  is  the  answer  to  the  sceptic ;  it  is  by  an  inference,  or  a 
process  of  reasoning,  that  we  assign  the  origin  of  the  world 
to  a  creator. 

The  composers  of  hymns  generally  make  light  of  all 
intellectual  difficulties.  They  are  so  far  right,  when  they 
know  their  audience  ;  they  address  themselves  to  the 
implicit  faith  of  the  Christian  multitude.  Still,  it  is  a 
matter  not  to  be  neglected,  to  consider  how  far  this  implicit 
faith  will  carry  them,  and  at  what  points  doubt  and  difficulty 
may  attach  to  their  utterances ;  as,  for  example,  the  un- 
bounded and  unqualified  assertion  of  the  Divine  goodness. 
Addison's  hymn  is  a  solitary,  and  so  far  successful,  attempt 
to  grapple  with  one  of  the  difficulties. 

"While  the  Hymn  is  the  form  of  composition  most 
directly  conceived  for  awakening  religious  emotion,  the 
sermon  also  has  in  view  the  same  effect,  but  in  combination 
with  other  aims,  more  or  less  intellectual. 

A  few  sentences  from  Eobert  Hall  will  exemplify  his 
endeavours  to  stir  the  human  heart. 

"To  estrange  ourselves  from  God  is  to  be  guilty  of  a 
"  new  and  most  enormous  kind  of  offence ;  it  is  forgetting 


HALL   ON    THE   DIVINE   NATURE.  203 

"  our  proper  parent,  the  author  of  our  being,  the  very 
"  source  of  our  existence."  This  is  the  language  of  a  threat, 
which  may  move  us,  but  not  in  the  direction  of  love.  In- 
deed, the  necessity  of  employing  threats  is  one  of  the 
misfortunes  of  parental  discipline. 

"  To  love  Him,  to  seek  union  with  Him  in  the  closest 
"manner  possible,  is  to  return  to  our  proper  original — to 
"  seek  Him  from  whom  all  our  powers  are  derived,  and  by 
"  whom  alone  they  can  be  sustained  in  time,  and  must  be 
"consummated  and  completed  in  eternity."  "  To  return  to 
our  proper  original"  is  not  a  very  happy  expression. 
The  other  clauses  are  an  appeal  to  our  gratitude  for  the 
powers  conferred  upon  us,  and  to  our  interest  in  having 
these  powers  maintained  and  perfected. 

"  If  you  were  to  see  a  person  manifest  no  desire  for  the 
"presence  of  an  earthly  parent,  you  would  be  shocked  at 
"the  spectacle,  and  would  be  ready  to  represent  him  as  a 
"prodigy  of  ingratitude."  Unfortunately,  the  illustration 
has  little  force  ;  such  ingratitude  is  too  familiar,  and  indeed 
too  often  justified,  to  call  forth  our  abhorrence.  It  only 
shows  the  danger  of  pushing  the  parental  comparison  too 
far. 

"How  much  more  would  it  affect  a  well-constituted 
"  mind  to  behold  a  creature  seeking  estrangement  from  his 
"  Heavenly  Parent— living  in  forgetfulness  of  Him." 

The  line  to  follow  in  the  case  of  the  upward  affection — 
so  difficult  to  maintain— is  to  represent  the  genuine  ex- 
amples of  goodness  displayed  by  the  supposed  parent ;  the 
relation  stated  in  the  abstract  has  too  little  intrinsic  charm. 
As  in  the  stanza  — 

Father-like  He  tends  and  spares  us, 
Well  our  feeble  frame  He  knows  ; 
In  His  hands  He  gently  bears  us, 
Rescues  us  from  all  our  foes. 

The  language  of  tenderness  is  here  employed  in  such  a  way 
as  to  evoke  the  feeling  in  ourselves. 

To  return  to  Hall,  a  subsequent  passage  comes  more 
completely  home  to  our  emotion  of  gratitude. 

"To  be  the  source  of  happiness  is  the  highest  pre- 
"  rogative,  the  greatest  pre-eminence,  that  one  being  can 
"possess  over  another:  it  is,  in  fact,  to  be  his  God.  It 
"  is  plain  that  we  must  look  higher  than  ourselves, 
"  for   the   source  and  perpetuity  of  our  happiness.     The 


204  FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION. 

"Divine  Being  possesses  this  qualification  in  the  highest 
'•  degi-ee  :  He  is  the  Infinite  Spirit,  He  only  is  capable  of  be- 
"  stowing  and  assuming  true,  permanent,  uuchangmg  felicity, 
"  at  all  periods  and  through  all  duration.  The  earth  in  this 
"respect,  with  all  its  riches,  is  indigent;  even  the  splendour 
"  of  immortality  is  dark,  as  to  any  power  capable  of  guiding 
"  men  to  happiness,  independently  of  the  great  Eternal." 

All  this  IS  strongly  expressed,  and  does  everything  that 
the  promise  of  happiness  can  do  to  inspire  our  attachment 
to  the  Author  of  our  being ;  yet,  constituted  as  we  are,  it  is 
apt  to  fall  flat  on  our  minds.  There  is  not  merely  the 
difficulty  in  obtaining  assurance  ;  even  when  that  is  got  over, 
we  still  lack  the  ready  response  of  affection  to  the  call  of 
self-interest.  .  . 

Hall  endeavours  to  supply  the  proof  of  his  position, 
while  adding  fresh  illustrations  from  his  copious  diction.  _ 

"  God,  as  He  is  a  Spirit,  is  capable  of  communicating 
"Himself  to  the  spirits  of  His  rational  creatures.  Spirit 
"  naturally  comes  into  contact  with  spirit ;  and  this  com- 
"  munication  of  Himself  is  infinitely  easy  to  the  Divine 
"  Being.  He  can  manifest  Himself  to  the  hearts  of  His 
"  peopfe,  disclose  the  glory  of  His  name  to  them  more  and 
"  more,  open  perpetually  fresh  views  of  His  character,  give 
"  them  fresh  sensations  of  ineffable  delight  in  the  contem- 
"  plation  of  His  excellence,  lead  them  forward  from  one  de- 
"partinent  of  His  perfections  to  another,  and  make  the 
"  whole  creation  itself  speak  forth  His  praises.  Thus  may 
"  He  accumulate  the  materials  of  ceaseless  rapture  to 
"  eternity;  elevating  His  worshippers  perpetually  in  adora- 
"  tion,  at  the  same  time  that  He  lays  them  lower  in  prostra- 
"  tion  before  Him." 

In  his  gorgeous  discourse,  entitled  "  The  Glory  of  God 
in  Conceahng,"  Hall  makes  an  effective  employment  of  the 
influence  of  the  mysterious  on  the  human  mind;  not,  how- 
ever, without  a  certain  amount  of  special  pleading.  Mystery 
and  concealment  may  be  carried  to  such  a  pitch  as  to  prove 
harassing  rather  than  a  charm  or  fascination. 

"  The  Deity  is  intended  to  be  the  everlasting  field  of  the 
"  liuman  intellect,  as  well  as  the  everlasting  object  of  the 
"  human  heart,  the  everlasting  portion  of  all  holy  and  happy 
"  minds,  who  are  destined  to  spend  a  blissful  but  ever-active 
"  eternity  in  the  contemplation  of  His  glory."  Here  there 
is  a  mixed  appeal  to  our  afi"ections  and  to  our  intellectual 


MYSTERY   A    LIMITED    INTEREST.  205 

pleasures;  in  point  of  fact,  the  last-named  constitute  the 
theme  of  the  passage. 

"  If  we  stretch  our  powers  to  the  uttermost,  we  shall 
"  never  exhaust  His  praise,  never  render  Him  adequate 
"  honour,  never  discharge  the  full  amount  of  claim  which  He 
"possesses  upon  our  veneration,  obedience,  and  gratitude. 
"  When  we  have  loved  Him  with  the  greatest  fervour,  our 
"  love  will  still  be  cold  compared  with  His  title  to  devoted 
"  attachment."  There  is  no  real  force  in  these  hyperbolical 
statements ;  they  miss  the  way  to  the  human  heart. 

"This  will  render  Him  the  continual  source  of  fresh 
"delight  to  all  eternity.''  The  inference  is  by  no  means 
plain.  "His  perfection  will  be  an  abyss  never  to  be 
"  fathomed;  there  will  be  depths  in  His  excellence  which  we 
"  shall  never  be  able  to  penetrate.  We  shall  delight  in 
"losing  ourselves  in  His  infinity."  Not  necessarily;  we 
may  be  equally  liable  to  the  pain  of  being  baffled  in  our 
endeavours. 

"  In  the  contemplation  of  such  a  Being,  we  are  in  no 
"  danger  of  going  beyond  our  subject ;  we  are  conversing 
"  with  an  infinite  object  ...  in  the  depths  of  whose 
"  essence  and  purposes  we  are  for  ever  lost.  This  will 
"  (probably)  give  all  the  emotions  of  freshness  and  astonish- 
"  ment  to  the  raptures  of  the  beatific  vision,  and  add  a 
"  delightful  rest  to  the  devotions  of  eternity."  Theologians 
have  drawn  largely  on  their  own  uninspired  imagination 
for  the  pictures  of  celestial  bliss,  and  these  must  be 
judged  solely  as  to  their  effect  on  the  feelings.  Intellectual 
curiosity  is  the  charm  of  only  a  select  number  of  minds  ; 
and  such  will  not  be  carried  away  by  the  very  doubtful 
assertions  that  Hall  indulges  in.  His  glittering  language  is 
well  suited  to  develop  the  theme  ;  but,  to  awaken  the  more 
universal  sentiment  of  love,  a  difi'erent  style  of  addi^ess  is 
needed.  It  would  have  been  still  better  if  he  had  expended 
his  great  powers  in  a  simple,  unqualified,  and  harmoniously 
sustained  appeal  to  the  human  a,ffections. 

Cardinal  Newman,  speaking  of  '  The  Benediction  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament,'  makes  such  an  appeal  with  effective 
simplicity : — 

"As  sons  might  come  before  a  parent  before  going  to 
bed  at  night,  so,  once  or  twice  a  week,  the  great  Catholic 
family  comes  before  the  Eternal  Father,  after  the  bustle  or 
toil  of  the  day,  and  He  smiles  upon  them,  and  sheds  upon 


206  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION, 

them  the  hght  of  His  countenance."  "  It  is,"  he  says  sub- 
sequently, "  one  of  the  most  hfuutiful,  natural,  and  soothivrf 
actions  of  the  Church"  ;  which  brings  the  rite  close  to  the 
tender  regards. 

TEXDEKNESS  IN   NATURAL   OBJECTS. 

The  interest  in  Nature,  including  inanimate  objects, 
together  with  plants  and  animals,  has  been  already  brought 
into  view  (p.  53).  The  Tender  interest,  in  particular,  is 
inseparable  from  erotic  poetry. 

Pei'sonification  and  Association  combine  to  impart  tender 
feeling  to  the  outer  world ;  and  objects  rendered  interesting 
from  these  causes  are  introduced  into  poetry,  either  as 
principals  or  as  accessories  and  surroundmgs. 

The  chief  liability  to  failure  in  all  such  references  is 
assuming  for  them  a  greater  height  of  emotion  than  the 
average  reader  can  rise  to. 

Milton's  Night  Scene,  in  the  Fourth  Book  of  Paradise 
Lost,  accumulates  circumstances  of  Nature  interest,  more  or 
less  impregnated  with  tender  feeling,  and  nowise  out  of 
harmony  with  it.  Even  the  celestial  allusions,  although 
tending  to  the  subhme,  are  suited  to  the  calm  and  repose  of 
the  loving  emotion. 

Now  came  still  Evening  on,  and  Tmlight  grey 
Had  in  her  sober  livery  all  things  clad  ; 
Silence  accompanied  ;  for  beast  and  bird. 
They  to  their  grassy  couch,  these  to  tlicir  nest3 
Were  slunk,  all  but  the  wakeful  nightingale  ; 
She  all  night  long  her  amorous  descant  sung. 
Silence  '.vas  plcr.sed.     Now  glowed  the  firmament 
With  living  sapphire  ;  Hesperus,  that  led 
Tlie  starry  host,  rode  brightest,  till  the  Moon, 
Kising  in  cloudy  majesty,  at  length 
Apparent  queen  unveiled  her  peerless  light, 
And  o'er  the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw. 

The  accumulated  circumstances  of  autumnal  decay  are 
given  m  Thomson  thus  : — 

The  pale  descending  year,  yet  pleasing  still 
A  gentler  mood  inspires  ;  for  now  the  leaf 
Incessant  rustles  from  the  mournful  grove  • 
Oft  startling  such  as,  studious,  walk  below', 
And  slowly  circles  through  the  waving  air. 
But  should  a  quicker  breeze  amid  the  boughs 
Sob,  o'er  the  sky  the  leafy  deluge  streams  ; 


KATUEE  TENDEKKESS — THOMSON,  SHELLEY,  KEATS.  207 

Till  choked,  and  matted  with  the  dreary  shower, 
The  forest  walks,  at  every  rismg  gale, 
Koll  wide  the  withered  waste,  and  whistle  bleak. 
Fled  is  the  blasted  verdure  of  the  fields  ; 
And,  shrunk  into  their  beds,  the  flowery  race 
Their  sunny  robes  resign.     Even  what  remained 
Of  stronger  fruits  falls  from  the  naked  tree  ; 
And  woods,  fields,  gardens,  orchards,  all  around 
The  desolated  prospect  thrills  the  soul. 

The  general  effect  here  is  alhance  with  tender  emotion, 
which  is  made  more  decided  by  the  suggestion  of  decay.  It 
is  not  difficult  to  assign  the  poetical  bearing  of  every  one  of 
the  circumstances.  In  some  instances,  the  images  are 
allied  to  power,  as  'the  leafy  deluge,'  '  the  rising  gale,'  '  the 
blasted  verdure,'  but  these  j)ass  at  once  into  the  pathos  of 
decay  and  desolation. 

Even  the  grandeurs  of  the  world's  scenei'y  can  easily 
assume  the  tender  aspect,  without  a  sense  of  discord.  As 
in  Shelley  : — 

She  moved  upon  this  earth  a  shape  of  brightness, 

A  power  that  from  its  objects  scarcely  drew 

One  impulse  of  her  being — iti  her  lightness 

IMost  like  some  radiant  cloud  of  morning  dew. 

Which  wanders  through  the  ivrrste  air's  pathless  blue. 

To  nourish  some  far  desert :  she  did  seem 

Beside  me,  gathering  beauty  as  she  grew, 

Like  the  bright  shade  of  some  immortal  dream 

Which  walks,  when  tempest  sleeps,  the  icave  of  life's  darJc  stream. 

We  feel  no  unsuitability  for  the  poet's  aim,  which  is  to 
inspire  love,  in  quoting  objects  belonging  to  the  higher 
sphere  of  nature's  sublimity. 

Even  the  sublime  grandeurs  of  the  celestial  orbs  are 
subservient  to  the  tender  and  pathetic  interest  when  they 
are  employed  as  signs  to  mark  the  recurrence  of  interesting 
human  avocations.     As  in  Milton — 

The  star  that  bids  the  shepherd  fold. 

The  following  is  from  Keats  : — 

Together  had  he  left  his  mother  fair 
And  his  twin-sister  sleeping  in  their  bower, 
And  in  tlie  morning  twilight  wandered  forth 
Beside  the  osiers  of  a  rivulet, 
Full  ankle-deep  in  lilies  of  the  vale. 
The  nightivgale  had  ceased,  and  &  feiv  stars 
Were  lingering  in  the  heavens,  while  the  thrush 
Began  calm-throated.     Throughout  all  the  isle 
There  was  no  covert,  no  retired  cave 
Unhaunted  by  the  murmurous  noise  of  waves. 
Though  scarcely  heard  in  many  a  green  recess. 


203  FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Again,  in  Wordsworth  : — 

All  things  that  love  the  sun  are  out  of  doors  ; 

The  sky  rejoices  in  the  morniiui's  birth  ; 

The  grass  is  bright  with  rain-drops  ; — on  the  moors 

The  hare  is  running  races  in  her  mirth  ; 

And  with  her  feet  she  from  the  plashy  earth 

liaises  a  mist ;  that,  glittering  in  the  sun, 

Runs  icitk  her  all  the  way,  wherever  she  doth  run. 

The  flowers  are  especially  the  ministers  of  pathos,  as 
the  trees  are  of  strength.  The  rose  has  the  admitted  pre- 
eminence :  its  charms  to  the  senses  are  readily  augmented 
by  the  subtle  infusion  of  protective  tenderness,  and  its 
value  to  the  poet  is  correspondingly  great.  The  violet,  the 
primrose,  the  blue  bell,  the  lily  of  the  valley,  and  many 
others  have  also  admitted  poetic  rank.  The  daisy,  too,  has 
its  interest ;  but  has  been,  perhaps,  overtasked  both  by 
Wordsworth  and  by  Burns.  The  ode  of  Burns  '  To  a 
Mountain  Daisy '  barely  escapes  maudlin,  notwithstanding 
the  poetic  setting  in  company  with  the  lark.  Much  less 
regret  would  suffice  for  uprooting  a  daisy  in  the  plough's 
track.  Moreover,  to  tag  on  to  such  a  small  incident  a  series 
of  moral  lessons — to  the  artless  maid,  to  the  imprudent 
bard,  and  to  the  unfortunate  generally, — seems  an  inversion 
of  the  order  of  supporting  and  supported. 

Tennyson's  harmonizing  faculty  finds  congenial  exer- 
cise in  this  field.     The  following  is  from  CEnoiie : — 

0  mother  Ida,  many-fountained  Ida, 
Dear  mother  Ida,  harken  ere  I  die. 
For  now  the  noonday  quiet  holds  the  hill : 
The  grasshopper  is  silent  in  the  grass  : 
The  lizard,  with  his  shadow  on  the  stone, 
Bests  like  a  shadow,  and  the  winds  are  dead. 
The  purple  flower  droops  ;  the  golden  boa 
Is  lily-cradled:  I  alone  awake. 
Jly  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  &c. 

SORROW.— PATHOS. 

When  misery  cannot  be  relieved  in  kind,  that  is,  by  the 
means  strictly  adapted  to  the  case,  as  poverty  by  alms,  sick- 
ness by  remedies ;  there  is  an  assuaging  power  through  the 
display  of  tender  emotion.  This  may  take  the  shape  either 
of  sympathy  from  others,  or  of  grief  on  the  part  of  the 
sufferer,  wliich  latter  is  tenderness  towards  self.  The  situ- 
ation is  expressed  by  Sorrow,  and  gives  the  meaning  to 


CALAMITIES    INCIDENT    TO    THE    LOVE    PASSION.  209 

Pathos,  as  a  specific  mode  of  evoking  the  tender  feeling. 
From  the  circumstances  of  human  hfe,  we  have  here  one  of 
the  most  frequent  occasions  for  drawing  upon  the  fountains 
of  that  emotion. 

Thus,  in  our  irretrievable  losses  by  Death,  recourse  is 
had  to  the  indulgence  of  Sorrow  as  an  assuaging  influence  ; 
and  poetry  has  greatly  contributed  to  the  effect. 

Pathos,  in  the  limited  sense,  finds  illustration  under  all 
the  heads  of  Tender  Feeling ;  and,  in  the  review  of  those 
already  given,  examples  of  what  is  now  meant  have  inci- 
dentally occurred.  Still,  by  an  express  handhng,  important 
points  connected  with  the  quality  of  Feeling  will  receive  the 
prominence  due  to  them. 

Erotic  Pathos. 

The  griefs  of  lovers  occupy  a  large  space  in  the  poetry  of 
love.  The  oldest  treatment  of  the'  passion  is  devoted  to  its 
sorrows.  We  do  not  hear  of  the  love-making  of  Helen  and 
Menelaus ;  but,  in  a  splendid  chorus  of  the  Ar/amenmnn, 
^schylus  pictures  the  misery  of  the  husband  after  his 
wife's  abduction. 

The  chief  calamities  incident  to  the  passion  are  un- 
requited love,  desertion,  and  loss  by  death. 

When  the  feeling  is  once  aroused  to  its  passionate  height, 
the  distress  of  unreturned  affection  is  correspondingly  great. 
Poets  have  endeavoured  to  console  the  sufferer,  but  still 
oftener  have  employed  ridicule  to  quench  the  flame.  The 
Lyric  poets  are  accustomed  to  express  the  feelings  of  the 
lover  by  a  lament  uttered  by  himself.  Burns' s  '  Mary 
Morison  '  is  an  example  :  only  high  poetic  power  can  secure 
by  such  a  strain  the  sympathy  of  the  ordinary  reader. 
Browning's  favourite  attitude  for  the  rejected  lover — quiet 
resignation,  combining  deep  feeling  with  continued  appre- 
ciation of  the  loved  one's  excellences  —  is  felt  to  be  the 
worthier  mode  of  outlet. 

Being  deserted,  or  forsaken,  after  having  the  fruition  of 
love,  is  a  more  tragic  incident.  The  chorus  of  iEschylus 
can  be  studied  for  this  situation.  All  that  he  attempts  is 
to  reflect  the  grief  of  Menelaus  in  his  surroundings.  In 
his  longing,  '  a  phantom  will  seem  to  rule  the  house.  The 
grace  of  goodly  statues  hath  grown  irksome  to  his  gaze,  and 
in  his  widowhood  of  weary  eyes  all  beauty  fades  away.    But 


210  FEELING — EXEilPLIFICATION, 

dreams  that  glide  in  sleep  with  sorrow,  visit  him,  conveying 
a  vain  joy  ;  for  vain  it  is,  when  one  hath  seemed  to  see  good 
things,  and  lo,  escaping  through  his  hands,  the  vision 
flies  apace  on  wings  that  follow  on  the  paths  of  sleep.' 
(Symonds.) 

Virgil's  masterpiece,  the  desertion  of  Dido  by  vEneas,  is 
pathetic  from  the  wonderful  testimony  to  the  strength  of 
her  affection,  shown  at  first  by  her  modes  of  courtship,  and 
in  the  end  by  her  self-immolation.  No  solace  is  provided 
for  herself,  and  not  much  for  those  that  may  afterwards 
undergo  her  fate ;  but,  at  a  time  when  the  passion  of  love 
had  been  but  little  celebrated,  we  are  presented  with  an 
example  at  the  highest  pitch  of  intense  devotion.  An 
ancient  poet  could  give  such  sufferers  only  the  consolation 
of  revenge.  The  reader  is  compensated  for  the  pain  of  the 
story,  partly  by  the  treatment,  and  partly  by  an  outburst  of 
indignation  against  the  betrayer. 

Loss  by  desertion  is  handled  by  Burns  in  many  forms. 
'  Ye  banks  and  braes  '  is  a  case  of  sustained  grief,  with  the 
usual  appeal  to  sympathetic  surroundings.  The  language 
is  soft  and  touching  throughout ;  and  we  cannot  but  chime 
in  with  the  forsaken  lover's  remonstrances  to  the  banks  and 
braes  and  the  singing  birds,  as  a  natural  mode  of  venting 
her  feelings. 

As  in  Dido's  case,  the  expression  of  forsaken  love  lends 
itself  readily  to  the  passionate  forms  of  Strength,  when 
indignation  becomes  the  leading  emotion.  We  have  here 
the  example  of  (Enone. 

Forced  separation  necessarily  receives  a  like  treatment 
with  desertion.  As  an  example,  we  may  mention  William 
Motherwell's  poem  of  '  Jeanie  Morrison  '—a  lyric  depicting  a 
love  of  boyhood  interrupted  by  long  separation,  yet  faithfuTly 
clung  to.  It  includes  little  or  no  effort  to  set  forth  the 
object  of  love  ;  she  had  been  but  a  girl  then,  and  she  might 
be  changed  now.  But  the  love  itself  is  portrayed  in  all 
the  forms  appropriate  to  boyhood,  together  with  the  feehngs 
of  deepest  sorrow  awakened  by  its  memories,  and  earnest 
longings  to  know  whether  her  feelings  are  still  the  same. 
Thus  : — 

O  dear,  dear  Jeanie  Morrison, 

Since  we  were  sindcred  joung, 
I've  never  seen  your  face,  nor  heard 

The  music  o'  your  tongue ; 


FOECED  SEPARATION  OF  LOVERS.  211 

But  I  could  hug  all  wretchedness, 

A)id  happy  could  I  dee, 
Did  I  but  ken  your  heart  still  dreamed 

0'  bygane  days  and  me ! 

Like  most  erotic  poets,  Tennyson  often  adverts  to  the 
case  of  forced  separation.  He  does  so  specifically  in  '  Love 
and  Duty'.  The  occasion  is  a  final  interview,  where  the 
intensity  of  feehng  appears ;  but  dignified  by  the  sacrifice, 
and  the  man's  effort  at  comfort : — 

Then  followed  counsel,  comfort,  and  the  words 
That  make  a  man  feel  strong  in  speaking  truth. 

The  pathos  proper  to  the  occasion  emerges  at  various 
points : — 

Ill-fated  that  I  am,  what  lot  is  mine 

Whose  fore-sight  preaches  peace,  my  heart  to  show 

To  feel  it ! 

There  is  also  a  fehcitous  combination  of  comforting 
strength  and  of  the  personal  sorrow  that  is  needed  to  keep 
that  strength  from  turning  to  fustian  : — 

Live  happy  ;  tend  thy  flowers  ;  he  tended  by 

My  blessing  !     Should  my  shadow  cross  thy  thoughts 

Too  sadly  for  their  peace,  remand  it  thou 

For  calmer  hours  to  Memory's  darkest  hold, 

If  not  to  be  forgotten — not  at  once — 

Not  all  forgotten.     Should  it  cross  thy  dreams, 

O  miglit  it  come  like  one  that  looks  content. 

With  quiet  eyes  unfaithful  to  the  truth,  &c. 

The  flower  clause  in  the  first  line  is  perhaps  a  false  note. 

Loss  by  Death  is  a  situation  that  can  be  dealt  with  only 
by  the  gentlest  means.  The  management  is  the  same  for 
all  the  forms  of  strong  affection — parental,  filial,  or  other. 
Poetic  treatment  has  been  abundantly  bestowed  upon  each ; 
and  the  method  for  one  is  applicable  to  the  others. 

The  conjugal  losses  are  often  aggravated  by  worldly 
privations,  for  which  neither  sympathy  nor  poetry  can 
supply  consolation. 

Milton's  Sonnet  on  his  deceased  wife  is  learned  and 
fanciful,  rather  than  pathetic.  She  is  inade  to  appear  to 
him  in  a  dream,  and  her  virtues  are  thus  expressed — 

Came  vested  all  in  white,  pure  as  her  mind. 

Her  face  was  veiled  ;  yet  to  my  fancied  sight, 
Love,  goodness,  sweetness,  in  her  person  shined 

So  clear,  as  in  no  face  with  more  delight. 


212  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  grief  of  Andromache  for  the  death  of  Hector  is  real 
and  truthful.  Allowing  for  the  necessities  of  the  poem, 
which  is  fruitful  in  tragic  scenes,  the  description  of  her 
behaviour  is  true  pathos;  the  intensity  of  affection,  em- 
bodied in  strongly  characteristic  traits,  is  within  the  limits 
of  poetry  ;  which  cannot  be  said  of  the  picture  of  Achilles, 
in  his  revenge  for  Patroclus. 

Paeental  Pathos. 

The  poetry  of  the  parental  relationship  is  more  copious 
on  its  pathetic  than  on  its  joyful  side.  The  loss  of  children, 
their  misfortunes  and  ill-conduct,  have  been  the  theme  of 
lament  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  hterature.  The  subject  is 
so  painful  that  the  treatment  often  fails  to  redeem  it. 

The  slaughter  of  the  Innocents,  but  for  its  place  in 
Sacred  History,  would  be  insufferable  in  art.  No  humane 
mind  can  look  with  anything  but  revulsion  on  the  numerous 
paintings  devoted  to  it ;  they  rank  in  the  same  class  with 
the  crucifixion,  and  the  scourging,  and  the  martyrdoms  of 
the  saints,  which  can  be  justified  only  by  their  truth  and 
their  religious  bearings. 

Perhaps  the  earliest  note  in  English  poetry  is  given  in 
Ben  Jonson's  little  odes  to  his  '  First  Daughter '  and  his 
'First  Son'.  For  the  daughter,  parental  grief,  strongly 
stated,  is  combined  with  the  associations  of  the  heavenly 
state,  and  the  tender  adjuration  to  her  grave  to  cover  her 
lightly.  To  the  son  (seven  years  old)  he  addresses  parental 
fond  hopes,  and  admiration,  with  a  mournful  congratula- 
tion on  escape  from  the  world's  misery  and  the  sadness 
of  age. 

Shakespeare's  handling  of  little  Arthur  in  King  John,  and 
of  Kichard's  nephews  in  the  Tower,  is  unredeemed,  and 
probably  unredeemable,  horror.  Such  incidents  must  take 
their  place  in  the  entire  Tragedy  that  they  belong  to,  and  be 
judged  in  that  relation. 

To  see  the  capabilities  of  this  theme,  we  need  to  refer  to 
the  more  recent  poets :  including  Wordsworth,  Coleridge, 
Hartley  Coleridge,  Tennyson,  Browning,  and  many  more. 
The  round  of  topics  of  consolation  is  soon  exhausted,  and 
the  charm  of  the  poetry  becomes  the  salient  merit. 

As  an  example  of  the  class,  wo  may  take  'Casa  Wappy,' 
by  i).  M.  Moir  (the  'Delta'  of  Bladiwood),  which  was  much 


SOEBOW  FOR  THE  LOSS  OF  A  CHILD.         213 

admired  by  Jeffrey.  To  a  large  extent,  it  is  an  outpouring 
of  intense  sorrow  over  the  loss.*     Thus — 

Despair  was  in  our  last  farewell, 

As  closed  thine  eye  ; 
Tears  of  our  anguish  may  not  tell 

When  thou  didst  die. 

The  child's  form  seems  ever  near : — 

Do  what  I  may,  go  where  I  will, 

Thou  meet'st  my  sight; 
There  dost  thou  glide  before  me  still — 

A  form  of  light ! 
I  feel  thy  breath  upon  my  cheek — 
I  see  thee  smile,  I  hear  thee  speak — 
Till,  oh  1  my  heart  is  like  to  break, 

Casa  Wappy ! 

The  parent  naturally  dwells  on  every  memory  of  his  child, 
and  rehearses  all  the  circumstances  of  their  parting.  All 
this  is  in  itself  painful ;  but  when  we  have  to  do  with  a 
haunting  sorrow,  there  is  a  measure  of  relief  in  the  simple 
utterance  of  it,  just  as  tears  relieve  the  physical  oppression  ; 
and  this  relief  will  be  felt  by  a  reader  in  similar  circum- 
stances. Moreover,  to  dwell  on  the  thought  of  the  happi- 
ness the  child  had  conferred,  though  in  one  aspect  increasing 
the  pain,  does,  nevertheless,  give  pleasure  through  the 
memory  of  it.  This,  indeed,  is  the  only  form  of  comfort 
expressed,  apart  from  the  consolations  of  religion. 

These  appear  chiefly  in  two  forms.  First,  there  is  the 
thought  of  the  child's  present  happiness,  with  which  the 
poem  opens,  and  to  which  it  returns  : — 

Yet,  'tis  sweet  balm  to  our  despair. 

Fond,  fairest  boy. 
That  heaven  is  God's  and  thou  art  there, 

With  Him  in  joy  ; 
There  past  are  death  and  all  its  woes. 
There  beauty's  stream  for  ever  flows, 
And  pleasure's  day  no  sunset  knows, 
Casa  Wappy. 

Secondly,  there  is  the  prospect  of  meeting  again,  with 
which  the  poem  closes  : 

Farewell,  then — for  a  while,  farewell — 

Pride  of  my  heart ! 
.tt  cannot  be  that  long  we  dwell 

Thus  torn  apart : 

•'Casa  Wappy'  was  the  pet  name  of  a  child  lost  by  death,  and  was  taken 
from  the  cliild's  own  language. 


214  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Time's  shadows  liie  the  shuttle  flee  : 
And,  dark  howe'er  life's  night  may  be, 
Beyond  the  grave  I'll  meet  with  thee, 
Casa  Wappy. 

In  the  general  conduct  of  the  poem  we  may  observe  that 
the  intensity  of  the  sorrow  appears  natural  (it  was  indeed 
the  outcome  of  actual  experience) ;  that  this  intensity  never 
assumes  the  form  of  passion  ;  that  calmness  and  resignation, 
when  obviously  the  utterance,  not  of  callousness,  but  of 
deep  feeling,  have  a  decidedly  soothing  influence  ;  and  that 
the  form  of  the  language  is  in  harmony  with  this  impression. 

Hood  has  a  famous  poem,  devoted  to  the  incidents  of  a 
child's  deathbed.  There  is  a  suspension  of  feeling,  relieved 
by  the  touches  of  solicitous  care,  and  finally  by  the  favourite 
device  of  the  peace  and  happiness  attained. 

We  watch'd  her  breathing  thro'  the  ni^iit, 

Her  breathing  soft  and  low, 
As  in  her  breast  the  wave  of  life 

Kept  heaving  to  and  fro. 

So  silently  we  seemed  to  speak, 

So  slowly  moved  about, 
As  we  had  lent  her  half  our  powers 

To  eke  her  living  out. 

Our  very  hopes  belied  our  fears, 

Our  fears  our  hopes  belied  — 
We  thought  her  dymg  when  she  slept, 

And  sleeping  when  she  died. 

For  when  the  morn  came  dim  and  sad 

And  chill  with  early  showers, 
Her  quiet  eyelids  closed — she  had 

Another  morn  than  ours. 

The  sincerity  of  feeling  seems,  however,  to  be  interfered  with 
by  the  pointedness  of  expression;  though  the  ingenuities 
are  easy  and  obvious.  The  last  stanza  makes  very  fine  use 
of  external  circumstances  to  chime  in  with  the  emotion 
portrayed,  and  especially  to  suggest  the  contrast  of  '  another 
morn  '. 

Grief  of  Children  for  Parents. 

The  loss  of  Parents,  being  in  the  course  of  nature,  yields 
the  pangs  of  inconsolable  grief  only  in  exceptional  cases. 

Tope's  lines  to  his  motlier  have  too  much  the  air 
of  ehiborate  composition  to  give  the  impression  of  genuine 
tenderness. 


FILIAL    GRIEF — POPE    ON    HIS    MOTHER.  215 

Me,  let  the  tender  office  long  engage, 

To  rock  the  cradle  of  reposing  age, 

With  lenient  arts  extend  a  mother's  breath, 

]\Iake  languor  smile,  and  smooth  the  bed  of  death  ; 

Explore  the  thought,  explain  the  asking  eye, 

And  keep  awhile  one  parent  from  the  sky  ! 

The  attentions  signalized  are  all  of  the  nature  of  affectionate 
care  and  interest ;  but  the  artifice  of  the  verse  is  too  appa- 
rent, and  leads  to  a  diversion  of  mind  from  the  real  emotion. 
There  is  no  easy  continuity  in  the  circumstantials ;  they  are 
forced  to  suit  the  rhyme  :  '  extend  a  mother's  breath,'  must 
have  for  its  rhyming  counterpart  another  metaphor  for  the 
same  thing — '  smooth  the  bed  of  death '.  This  would  seem 
the  natural  close  ;  but  the  poet  goes  back  to  the  prior 
situation,  when  a  smile  could  be  evoked,  and  the  looks 
interpreted  for  something  that  could  give  relief.  The  last 
line  of  all  assumes  that  life  can  still  be  prolonged ;  and 
employs  the  very  doubtful  figure  of  keeping  back  from  the 
joys  of  heaven  a  parent  supposed  to  be  in  the  struggles  of  a 
deadly  malady. 

Cowper's  '  Lines  on  his  Mother's  Picture,'  already  re- 
ferred to,  are  an  expression  of  filial  sorrow,  which  is  the 
more  natural  and  credible  from  the  poet's  special  need  of  a 
mother's  care. 

The  circumstances  and  arts  of  pathos  may  be  well 
studied  in  Thackeray's  picture  of  Esmond  at  his  mother's 
grave. 

"  Esmond  came  to  this  spot  on  one  sunny  evening  of 
spring,  and  saw,  amidst  a  thousand  black  crosses,  casting 
their  shadows  across  the  grassy  mounds,  that  particular  one 
which  marked  his  mother's  resting-place.  Many  more  of 
those  poor  creatures  that  lay  there  had  adopted  that  same 
name  with  which  sorrow  had  re -baptized  her,  and  which 
fondly  seemed  to  hint  their  individual  story  of  love  and 
grief.  He  fancied  her,  in  tears  and  darkness,  kneeling  at 
the  foot  of  her  cross,  under  which  her  cares  were  buried. 
Surely  he  knelt  down,  and  said  his  own  prayer  there,  not  in 
sorrow  so  much  as  in  awe  (for  even  his  memory  had  no 
recollection  of  her)  and  in  pity  for  the  pangs  which  the 
gentle  soul  in  life  had  been  made  to  suffer.  To  this  cross 
she  brought  them  ;  for  this  heavenly  bridegroom  she  ex- 
changed the  husband  who  had  wooed  her,  the  traitor  who 
had  left  her.  A  thousand  such  hillocks  lay  round  about, 
the  gentle  daisies  springing  out  of  the  grass  over  them,  and 


216  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

each  bearing  its  cross  and  requiescat.  A  nnn,  veiled  in 
black,  was  kneeling  hard  by,  at  a  sleeping  sister's  bed-side 
(so  fresh  made  that  the  spring  had  scarce  had  time  to  spin 
a  coverlid  for  it)  ;  beyond  the  cemetery  walls  you  had 
glimpses  of  life  and  the  world,  and  the  spires  and  gables  of 
the  city.  A  bird  came  dow^u  from  a  roof  opposite,  and  lit 
first  on  a  cross  and  then  on  the  grass  below  it,  whence  it 
flew  away  presently  with  a  leaf  in  its  mouth ;  then  came  a 
sound  of  chanting  from  the  chapel  of  the  sisters  hard  by ; 
others  had  long  since  filled  the  place  which  poor  Mary 
Magdalene  once  had  there,  were  kneeling  at  the  same  stall 
and  hearing  the  same  hymns  and  prayers  in  which  her 
stricken  heart  had  found  consolation.  Might  she  sleep  in 
peace — might  she  sleep  in  peace  !  and  we,  too,  when  our 
struggles  and  pains  are  over !  but  the  earth  is  the  Lord's,  as 
the  heaven  is ;  we  are  alike  His  creatures  here  and  yonder. 
I  took  a  little  flower  off  the  hillock  and  kissed  it,  and  went 
my  way  like  the  bird  that  had  just  lighted  on  the  cross  by 
me,  back  into  the  world  again.  Silent  receptacle  of  death  ! 
tranquil  depth  of  calm,  out  of  reach  of  tempest  and  trouble  ! 
I  felt  as  one  who  had  been  walking  below  the  sea,  and 
treading  amidst  the  bones  of  shipwrecks." 

The  pathetic  circumstances  in  this  passage  readily  dis- 
close themselves,  and  illustrate  the  pervading  conditions  of 
the  tender  interest.  The  mother  is  presented  to  our  com- 
passion in  the  aspect  of  a  great  sufferer  ;  her  sufferings  being 
given  in  various  forms.  Esmond's  own  feelings  receive  the 
fullest  expansion,  and  in  terms  calculated  to  awaken  the 
reader's  sympathies  to  an  acute  pitch.  The  surroundings 
are  vividly  conceived  so  as  to  be  in  full  harmony  with  the 
mourner.  The  nun  is  performing  like  oflices  to  a  sleeping 
sister.  The  incident  of  the  bird  aids  in  picturing  the  scene, 
as  a  suggestive  circumstance.  A  mourning  chant  is  heard 
from  the  chapel  of  the  sisters.  To  aid  in  the  picture,  to 
bring  life  and  death  together,  and  to  introduce  a  break  in 
the  sad  offices,  the  spires  and  gables  of  the  city  are  intro- 
duced to  view.  The  usual  figure  of  peaceful  sleep  is  indis- 
pensable. Eesignation  to  the  will  of  heaven  adds  to  the 
general  effect.  The  two  last  sentences  are  poetry  in  prose ; 
tlic  pathos  touching  on  the  tragic,  without  losing  character. 
The  whole  passage  is  an  accumulation  of  pathetic  circum- 
stances and  expression,  with  a  careful  avoidance  of  any- 
tliing  either  discordant  or  irrelevant.     The  manner  admits 


FILIAL    GKIEF — THACKERAY'S    ESMOND.  217 

of  variation,  but  scarcely  of  improvement  for  the  end.  More 
could  have  been  said  of  the  mother's  virtues  and  charms, 
but  these  were  left  to  the  story. 

Sorrow  for  Friends. 

The  Pathos  of  Friendship's  losses  corresponds  to  the 
strength  of  the  feeling,  which,  in  certain  exceptional  cases, 
attains  the  rank  of  the  love  passion  between  the  sexes. 

Tennyson's  In  Memoriam  is  wholly  based  on  grief  for 
a  great  loss.  The  expansion  of  the  treatment  allows  every 
circumstance  to  be  adduced  that  can  add  to  the  intensity  of 
the  writer's  state  of  feeling,  and  inspire  the  reader  with  a 
corresponding  intensity.  The  language  resembles  what  is 
usual  under  bereavement  in  the  proper  love  relation. 

Following  the  general  requirements  in  evoking  emotion, 
whether  by  Strength  or  by  Tenderness,  we  first  ask  for  an 
adequate  representation  of  the  charms  and  perfections  of  the 
object.  This  Tennyson  supplies,  though  not  at  the  beginning, 
in  a  wonderful  panegyric,  enumerating  the  choicest  intel- 
lectual and  moral  qualities  that  a  human  being  could 
possess.  As  a  noble  ideal  it  is  finely  drawn,  and  is 
strengthened  by  his  own  contrasting  self-humiliation.  To 
secure  not  merely  admiration,  but,  what  is  more  difficult, 
intense  personal  affection,  there  are  needed  such  touches 
as  these : — 

And  manhood  fused  witli  female  grace 
In  such  a  sort,  the  child  would  twine 
A  trustful  hand,  miask'd,  in  thme, 

And  find  his  comfort  in  thy  face. 

The  difTiculty  of  intellectual  portraiture  lies  in  being  at 
once  apposite  and  poetical.  Tennyson  attempts  both  in 
this  stanza : — 

Seraphic  intellect  and  force 

To  seize  and  throw  the  doubts  of  man  ; 
Impassioned  logic,  wliich  outran 

The  hearer  in  its  fiery  course. 

The  portraiture  by  incident,  so  much  more  effectual,  is 
exemplified  in  the  previous  quotation.  It  is  not  pursued 
further  in  the  present  passage,  but  occurs  at  random 
throughout  the  poem. 

We  look  next  for  the  subjective  expression  of  his  own 


218  FEELING-  EXEMPLIFICATION. 

feelings  in  such  form  as  to  command  our  concurring  emotion. 
The  poem  opens  with  the  circumstances  of  the  friend's 
death,  the  voyage  of  his  remains  to  his  own  country,  and  all 
the  paraphernalia  of  grief  and  mourning.  The  greatness  of 
the  loss  is  at  first  assumed.  Only  after  the  sadness  of  the 
interment  does  he  begin  to  celebrate  the  intensity  of  the 
friendship  (22-27)  and  all  the  joys  that  it  brought :  a 
splendid  picture  of  happiness,  finishing  by  the  well-quoted 
stanza — ''Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost  .  .  . '  This  method 
of  treatment  is  so  far  true  to  the  natural  course  of  emotion 
under  bereavement.  We  do  not  fully  realize  our  loss — still 
less  analyze  and  examine  it — until  the  parting  has  been  com- 
pleted by  the  burial  of  the  friend. 

The  harmonious  accompaniments  created  in  aid  of  the 
author's  emotional  states  would  of  themselves  make  a  great 
poem.  They  are  scattered  everywhere,  and  may  be  valued 
by  the  proper  tests. 

After  the  preface,  the  line  of  thought  becomes  de- 
sultory, and  takes  the  reader  through  a  succession  of  years 
after  the  death  of  the  loved  one.  A  first  mournful  Christ- 
mas is  given,  and  leads  to  a  discussion  of  the  state  of 
departed  spirits  and  the  meaningless  character  of  the 
Universe  without  immortality.  A  dawning  of  comfort 
arises  out  of  these  reflections. 

A  good  many  sections  are  devoted  to  the  weakness  and 
imperfections  of  the  writer,  his  need  of  support,  and  his 
consequent  sense  of  loss ;  with  more  reflections  upon  im- 
mortality and  the  hope  of  meeting.  Then  come  fears  and 
questionings  (54-56),  including  the  difficulty  of  reconciling 
Nature's  maleficence  with  immortality.  Many  fine  stanzas 
follow.  In  section  75,  we  have  this  expression  of  the  in- 
tensity of  his  feelings  : — 

I  leave  tliy  praises  unexpress'd 

In  verso  that  brings  myself  relief. 

And  by  the  measure  of  my  grief 
I  leave  thy  greatness  to  be  guess'd. 

A  second  Christmas  is  reached  (78)  distinguished  by 
greater  calmness  of  feeling.  It  introduces  a  new  vein  of 
moral  reflections  on  the  influence  of  death:  the  real  bitter- 
ness is  the  interruption  of  communion. 

In  83,  opens  a  series  of  recollections  and  personal  inci- 
dents, with  nioralizings  as  usual ;  and  in  95,  there  is  the  re- 
perusal  of  las  letters.     After  the  delineation  of  character, 


TENNYSON'S    '  IN    MEMOEIAM  '.  219 

already  quoted,  occurs  an  episode  on   Spring   and   Spring 
hopes,  as  suggesting  a  renewed  intimacy  beyond  the  grave. 

Then  follow  the  removal  of  the  family  from  their  old 
home  and  its  many  associations  with  the  dead,  and  a 
Christmas  kept  among  strangers.  At  each  new  stage,  the 
poet  seeks  to  make  us  aware  of  the  changing  phases  of  his 
sorrow ;  we  are  to  see  in  the  '  merry  bells '  ringing  in  the 
new  year  that  a  happier  era  is  now  approaching.  This 
tone  is  continued  in  connexion  with  his  friend's  next  birth- 
day, which  is  now  celebrated  with  gladness  : — • 

We  keep  the  day.     With  festal  cheer, 

With  books  and  music,  surely  we 

Will  drmk  to  him,  whate'er  he  be. 
And  sing  the  songs  he  loved  to  hear. 

This  spirit  is  maintained  through  the  remaining  sections, 
which  supply  reflections  on  the  strengthening  and  mellow- 
ing influences  of  sorrow,  backward  glances  over  the  course 
of  his  own  grief,  and  calm  descriptions  of  what  he  had  re- 
ceived from  the  friendship. 

The  end  of  the  whole  is  resignation,  peace,  and  the  con- 
viction that  his  friend  has  become,  not  less,  but  more  to 
him.  He  has  grown  into  a  universal  presence,  mingling 
with  his  own  life  (129,  130),  and  leading  him  on  to  fuller 
trust  (131)  in  the — 

Living  will  that  shall  endure 

When  all  that  seems  shall  suffer  shock. 

The  difficulties  to  be  overcome  in  such  a  poem  ai'e 
unavoidably  serious.  To  raise,  in  the  name  of  friendship, 
an  emotion  of  equal  intensity  with  sexual  love  at  its  utmost, 
involves  very  great  straining.  The  sympathy  with  a  lover 
for  the  loss  of  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  is  easily  kindled  :  no 
inordinate  qualities  of  mind  have  to  be  assumed ;  and  a 
very  limited  amount  of  plot  and  incident  will  suffice.  To 
bring  the  same  result  out  of  friendship,  the  friend  has  to  be 
constituted  a  rarity,  a  paragon,  one  in  ten  thousand.  Every- 
thing has  the  appearance  of  over-statement. 

A  poem  thus  occupied  with  personal  affliction  and  in- 
tense sorrow,  needs  redeeming  elements.  Such  are  found 
here  in  the  high-class  poetry  which  is  made  to  envelop  all 
the  circumstantials  of  the  bereavement,  often  without  neces- 
sary connexion.  This  is  what  relieves  the  monotony  of 
the  personal  bewailing.  Secondly,  the  poem  reveals  a  con- 
quest over  the  pains  of  grief,  such  that,  while  the  memory 


220  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

of  the  departed  friend  remains,  it  becomes  no  longer  weak- 
ness, but  strength  and  comfort.  If  this  conquest  had  been 
more  definitely  expressed,  it  would  have  been  still  more 
effectual.  Thirdly,  there  is  the  celebration  of  the  joys 
attainable  by  an  intense  and  elevated  friendship.  But, 
having  regard  to  the  facts  of  life,  we  must  feel  that  it  is 
overdone.  Indeed,  were  an  affection  of  such  intensity  to 
occur  in  actual  life,  it  would  interfere  with  family  ties,  by 
taking  the  place  of  love  without  the  inspiration  and  support 
derived  from  ojDposition  of  sex.  It  would  repeat  in  an  un- 
desirable way,  the  defective  side  of  the  love  affection  in  its 
intensified  forms, — the  impossibility  of  being  ever  satisfied 
with  any  but  one  person. 

The  evolution  of  the  poem  is  open  to  criticism.  Although 
not  demanding  the  rigorous  conditions  of  an  epic,  or  a 
drama,  it  still  needs  an  unfolding  purpose ;  and  the  only 
purpose  traceable  is  the  writer's  gradual  approach  to  serenity 
of  mind.  In  this,  however,  there  are  none  of  the  windings 
of  a  plot.  The  detached  passages  of  highly-wrought  verse, 
constantly  occurring,  so  far  sustain  the  interest,  and  are, 
indeed,  the  glory  of  the  poem. 

In  his  piece  entitled  'La  Saisiaz,'  Browning  works  up  a 
pathetic  subject,  the  sudden  death  of  a  lady  friend ;  the 
main  feature  in  the  handling  being  an  argumentative  view 
of  the  future  life,  illustrated  by  powerful  language  and  com- 
parisons. Touches  of  tenderness  occur,  in  the  midst  of 
energetic  argument  and  declamation.  The  following  is  a 
brief  example : — 

Gone  you  were,  and  I  shall  never  see  that  earnest  face  again 
Grow  transparent,  grow  transfigured  with  the  sudden  light  that  leapt, 
At  the  first  word's  provocation,  from  the  heart-deeps  where  it  slept. 
Therefore,  paying  piteous  duty,  what  seemed  you  have  we  consigned 
Peacefully  to — wliat  1  think  were,  of  all  earth-beds,  to  your  mind 
Most  the  choice  for  quiet,  yonder. 

There  is  a  mixture  of  business  with  tenderness  in  the  lines  ; 
but  the  charm  of  a  tine  demeanour  and  a  noble  character  is 
present  to  awaken  our  emotions  of  love,  which  the  sudden 
departure  intensities. 

The  author  freely  dilates  on  his  own  pains,  in  language 
severely  energetic  rather  than  softly  tender,  with  the  view 
of  augmenting  our  sense  of  his  loss,  and  the  worth  of  his 
object : — 


COMPASSION    FOR    THE    LOWER    ANIMALS.  221 

One  day  more  will  see  me  rid  of  this  same  scene  whereat  I  wince, 
Tetchy  at  all  sights  and  sounds,  and  pettish  at  each  idle  charm 
Proffered  me  who  pace  now  singly  where  we  two  went  arm  in  arm. 

In  his  sustained  argumentation,  he  nearly  exhausts  the 
ways  of  looking  at  death,  with  a  view  to  comfort,  thus — 

Why  repine  ?    There's  ever  some  one  lives  although  ourselves  he  dead  ! 

Or  again,  an  appeal  to  his  courage  to  face  the  reality 
whatever  it  may  prove  to  be — 

Why  should  I  want  courage  here  ? 
I  will  ask  and  have  an  answer, — with  no  favour,  with  no  fear, — 
From  myself.     How  much,  how  little,  do  I  inwardly  believe 
True  that  controverted  doctrine  ?     Is  it  fact  to  which  I  cleave, 
Is  it  fancy  I  but  cherish,  when  I  take  upon  my  lips 
Phrase  the  solemn  Tuscan  fashioned,  and  declare  the  soul's  eclipse 
Not  the  soul's  extinction?  take  his  "  I  believe  and  I  declare — 
Certain  am  I — from  this  life  I  pass  into  a  better,  there 
Where  that  lady  lives  of  whom  enamoured  was  my  soul  " — where  this 
Other  lady,  my  companion  dear  and  true,  she  also  is  ? 

Benevolence  as  Compassion. 

Compassion  for  human  suffering  generally,  is  a  mixture 
of  tender  emotion  with  active  sympathy.  The  woes  of 
mankind  are  often  far  beyond  the  power  of  redress,  and 
poetry,  by  its  usual  arts,  attempts  to  alleviate  the  pain  of 
conte)nplating  them. 

Pathos  of  this  class  may  refer  to  the  sufferings  of  man- 
kind in  general.  But  more  usually  our  compassion  is 
to  be  evoked  towards  some  individual,  imaginary  or  real, 
living  or  dead.  Thus  the  errors  and  misfortunes  of 
Burns  are  the  theme  of  two  poems  by  Wordsworth,  sug- 
gested by  a  visit  to  his  tomb ;  and  Mrs.  Browning,  writing 
on  '  Cowper's  Grave,'  expresses  our  sorrow  for  the  mental 
disease  that  clouded  his  life.  In  both  cases,  the  sadness  is 
partly  increased  and  partly  relieved  by  bringing  into  view 
other  elements  of  the  respective  lives,  while  the  interest  is 
greatly  deepened  by  their  poetic  gifts.  On  the  other  hand, 
Hood,  in  'The  Bridge  of  Sighs,'  endeavours  to  draw  forth 
our  compassion  towards  a  life  wrecked  and  lost,  with  no 
interest  beyond  this,  and  hence  needing  more  to  redeem  it 
from  its  natural  horrors. 

The  Lower  Animals  share  in  the  lot  of  suffering,  and 
their  case  has  been  sometimes  made  the  subject  of  pathetic 


222  FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION, 

rendering.  The  Hound  of  Ulysses,  already  referred  to, 
makes  one  of  the  touching  incidents  of  the  Odyssey;  no 
more  being  attempted  than  to  indicate  the  remembrance  of 
his  master  after  twenty  years. 

The  following  stanza  of  Burns,  with  reference  to  a 
stormy  winter  night,  expresses  this  pity  for  animals  :— 

Ilk  happing  bii-d,  wee,  helpless  thing, 

That,  in  the  merry  months  o'  spring, 

Delighted  me  to  hear  thee  smg, 
What  comes  o'  thee  ? 

Whare  wilt  thou  cower  thy  chittering  wing. 

And  close  thy  e'e ! 
The  luxury  of  pity  is  here  indulged  without  too  close  a 
view  of  the  sufferings  implied  ;    the  compassion  turns  on 
helplessness,  aided  by  the  pleasure  derived  from  the  lively 
summer  song. 

The  connexion  with  man  suggested  in  this  example  is 
still  further  increased  in  the  case  of  the  tamed  or  domesti- 
cated animals.  We  may  agree  with  Cowper's  denunciation 
of  the  man — 

Who  needlessly  sets  foot  upon  a  worm  ; 

but  it  is  barely  possible  to  stir  up  keen  compassion  for 
organisms  so  different  from  our  own.  Shakespeare's  asser- 
tion that — 

the  poor  beetle  that  we  tread  upon 

In  corporal  sufferance  finds  a  pang  as  great 

As  when  a  giant  dies — 

is  much  too  exaggerated  to  bring  out  a  tender  response.* 

Pope's  dying  pheasant  in  'Windsor  Forest'  is  meant  to  be 
patheticf     The  poet  understands  the  efficacy  of  its  beauties 

*  One  of  the  most  touching  passages  in  ancient  poetry  is  that  contained  in 
Ovid's  Metamoi-phnsc.t  (Hoolf  XV.),  where  the  poet,  in  describini!!;  the  ten'ts  of  the 
Pythagoreans,  dwells  upon  their  feeling  of  the  sacredness  of  animal  life.  After 
adverting  to  the  deserved  punishment  of  the  wild  beast  for  his  ravages  and  sjxilia- 
tion,  he  exclaims,  '  Wliat  have  ye  done  to  be  so  treated,  ye  gentle  sheep,  made  to 
provide  for  men,  ye  that  be,ar  nectar  in  the  full  teat,  that  give  us  your  wool  for 
covering,  and  are  more  helpful  in  life  than  in  death?  What  has  the  ox  done,  a 
guileless,  innocent  beast,  made  to  en<lure  toil?'  '  Unmindful  he,  and  not  worthy 
to  be  repaid  with  crops,  who  could  kill  the  tiller  of  his  fields,  as  soon  as  the  wciglit 
of  the  crooked  plough  was  removed  ;  who  struck  with  the  axe  that  neck  woru 
with  labour,  which  had  so  often  renewed  the  hard  field  and  given  so  many 
LarvesUl"  (116-1'26). 

t  See  !  from  the  hrake  the  whirring  pheasant  springs, 
And  mounts  exulting  on  triumphant  wings  : 
Short  is  his  joy  ;  he  feels  the  fiery  womul. 
Flutters  in  blood,  and  jjanting  beats  the  ground. 
Ah  !  what  avail  his  glossy,  varying  dyes. 
His  piirj)lp  crest,  and  scarlet  circlctl  e  es, 
The  viviil  ;;reeu  his  shining  plumes  uuiuld, 
His  painted  wings,  and  breast  tliat  flames  with  gold? 


MODES  OF  BECONCILING  US  TO  DEATH.        223 

of  plumage  in  adding  to  our  compassionate  interest.  Never- 
theless, to  call  forth  pity  in  such  a  case  is  hollowness  and 
mockery,  seeing  that  the  bird's  death  struggle  comes  as  a 
matter  of  human  sport. 

Patriotic  Compassion. 

Patriotic  devotion  is  often  tragic  and  pathetic ;  but, 
when  a  matter  of  history,  it  cannot  be  made  to  conform  to 
artistic  ideals.  Campbell's  lament  over  the  downfall  of 
Poland  is  relieved  chiefly  by  the  celebration  of  her  cham- 
pions. So  the  fall  of  Greece  is  usually  redeemed  by  the 
recital  of  her  glories,  as  in  Byron's  '  Isles  of  Greece  '.  The 
same  feeling  is  set  forth  by  him  from  the  sympathetic 
spectator's  point  of  view,  also  on  Greece,  in  '  Clime  of  the 
unforgotten  brave  '. 

The  Pathos  of  Country  is  often  exhibited  through  the 
emotions  of  exile  :  as  with  the  Jews  in  Babylon. 

Goethe's  Mignon  song  reproduces  it,  with  characteristic 
touches  of  Italy's  charms. 

Allan  Earasay's  '  Lochaber  no  more,'  touches  all  the 
chords  of  pathos  in  quitting  one's  native  land  to  settle  else- 
where. 

Death. 

There  are  various  modes  of  reconciling  us  to  Death. 
The  term  '  Philosophy '  is  the  summing  up  of  one  class  of 
considerations.  Eehgion  is  the  greatest  of  all.  The  poetic 
handhng  of  the  Tender  Emotions  is  a  distinct  form  ;  and, 
although  occasionally  standing  by  itself,  it  is  the  frequent 
accompaniment  of  all  the  other  modes,  and  is  excluded  from 
none,  except  the  severely  ethical  view  of  retribution  or  re- 
compense for  conduct  in  this  life. 

The  ancients  dilate  powerfully  upon  philosophy,  destiny 
and  life-weariness.  They  also  use  the  pathos  of  tenderness, 
or  mixtures  of  that  with  philosophy. 

Emily  Bronte  reaches  a  stern  consolation,  with  perhaps 
the  miniinum  of  consolatory  philosophy,  in  '  The  Old  Stoic  ' : 

Eiches  I  hold  in  light  esteem. 

And  love  I  laugh  to  scorn ; 
And  lust  of  fame  was  but  a  dream, 

That  vanished  with  the  morn : 


224  FEELING— EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Yes,  as  my  swift  days  near  their  goal, 

'Tis  all  tliat  I  implore  ; 
In  life  and  death,  a  chainless  soul, 

With  courage  to  endure. 

This,  however,  belongs  rather  to  strength;  though  -with 
pathetic  leanings. 

The  consciousness  of  having  done  our  part  in  life,  and  of 
having  fairly  participated  in  its  enjoyments,  reconciles  us  to 
quitting  the  scene  in  the  ripeness  of  our  days.  The  affec- 
tion of  friends  co-operates  with  this  source  of  consolation. 

Funeral  rites,  mourning  and  memorials  are  at  once  a 
partial  consolation  to  the  living  for  the  loss  of  friends,  and  a 
slight  amelioration  of  the  prospect  of  death.  They  are  also 
regarded  as  one  of  the  institutions  for  gratifying  our  sociable 
likings. 

The  consoling  figures  of  Sleep,  Eest,  Eepose,  end  of 
Trouble,  are  found  among  men  of  all  creeds.  The  compari- 
son of  life  to  the  course  of  the  day  supplies,  as  expressions 
for  its  close,  the  shades  of  evening,  the  setting  of  our  sun, 
the  coming  of  the  night.  These  allusions  may  be  pathetic, 
but  are  not  necessarily  comforting. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  many  poetic  renderings: — 

That  golden  key 
That  opes  the  palace  of  Eternity. 

Sinless,  stirless  rest — 

That  change  which  never  changes — 

And  beauty  immortal  awakes  from  the  tomb. 

Gone  before 
To  that  vmkno^vn  and  silent  shore ; 
Sliall  we  not  meet  as  heretofore 

Some  summer  morning  ? 
Passing  through  nature  to  eternity.     (Shakespeare.) 

A  death-like  slef^p, 
A  gentle  wafting  to  immortal  life.     (Milton.) 

To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind 
Is  not  to  die.     (Campbell.) 

Keats,  in  the  Nightingale  Ode,  has  an  ecstatic  stanza  on 
Death  :— 

Darklmg  I  listen ;  and  for  many  a  time, 

I  have  been  half  m  love  with  easeful  Tea'^h, 
Call'd  him  soft  names  in  many  a  mus^d  rhyme, 

To  take  into  the  air  my  quiet  breath  ; 
Now  more  than  ever  seems  it  rich  to  die. 

This  errs  on  the  side  of  extravagance.     People  cannot  dis- 


pope's    '  DYING    CHRISTIAN  '.  225 

pose  of  death  so  lightly  as  to  he  reconciled  by  a  nightingale's 
note,  even  poetically  heightened  by  the  imagery  of  a  beauti- 
ful Ode. 

The  unsuitability  of  Pope's  style  to  Pathos  is  shown  in 
his  '  Dying  Christian '.  A  series  of  pointed  epigrams  is 
employed  to  contrast  sharply  the  fading  of  the  present  life 
and  the  dawning  of  another ;  an  impossible  feat  in  reality, 
and  scarcely  congenial  to  our  imagination.  The  more 
typical  end  of  the  Christian's  life  is  ecstatic  joy  and  hope, 
which  is  susceptible  of  being  fully  represented  in  that 
shape ;  without  the  bold  and  unworkable  fiction  of  having 
a  foot  in  each  world. 

The  idea  of  relief  from  trouble  is  strongly  expressed  by 
Longfellow  in  '  Evangeline  ' : — 

Still  stands  the  forest  primeval ;  but  far  away  from  its  shadow. 
Side  by  side,  in  their  nameless  graves,  the  lovers  are  sleeping. 

Daily  the  tides  of  life  go  ebbing  and  flowing  beside  them ; 
Thousands  of  throbbing  hearts,  where  theirs  are  at  rest  and  for  ever  ; 
Thousands  of  aching  brains,  where  theirs  no  longer  are  busy  ; 
Thousands   of  toiling  hands,    where   theirs    have   ceased  from  their 

labours ; 
Thousands  of  weary  feet,  where  theirs  have  completed  their  journey. 

The  Hoeeible  in  Excess. 

This  is  the  lurking  danger  in  all  the  compositions  of 
Pathos,  and  may  be  made  the  subject  of  a  general  review, 
though  it  has  already  received  illustration  under  the  special 
heads. 

It  is  not  to  one,  but  to  many  scenes  in  Greek  Tragedy 
that  we  may  apply  the  epithet  '  heart-rendmg '.  The 
poetic  adornment  is  scarcely  enough  to  retrieve  the  horrors ; 
we  must,  at  last,  resort  to  the  device  for  shaking  off  the 
incubus  of  a  horrible  dream,  —  wake  up  and  find  it  all 
imaginary.  With  the  Greeks,  the  delight  in  malignancy, 
otherwise  named  the  fascination  of  suffering,  was  less  modi- 
fied by  humane  sympathies  than  with  the  moderns. 

Southey's  '  Mary  the  Maid  of  the  Inn  '  is  unredeemed 
horror.  By  her  lover's  crimes  she  was  driven  to  the  state 
described  in  the  first  stanza  : — 

Who  is  yonder  poor  maniac,  whose  wildly-fix'd  eyes 

Seem  a  heart  overcharged  to  express  ? 
She  weeps  not,  yet  often  and  deeply  she  sighs  : 
She  never  complains — but  her  silence  implies 
The  composure  of  settled  distress, 

11 


226  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Keats's  'Isabella,'  a  horrible  story  from  Boccaccio,  is 
barely  redeemed  by  the  beautiful  afi'ection  of  Isabella.  It 
is,  however,  one  of  those  cases  of  love  tragedy  that  allow  of 
an  exaggerated  picture  of  affection  without  seeming  over- 
sentimental.  At  the  same  time,  we  demand  a  very  highly- 
wrought  ideal,  in  order  to  compensate  for  the  misery  of  the 
termination. 

Such  incidents  happen  in  real  life.  The  narration  of 
them,  unless  redeemed  by  extraordinary  genius  in  the  treat- 
ment, transgresses  the  legitimate  bounds  that  divide  pathos 
from  horror. 

Tennyson's  'Coming  of  Arthur'  is  prefaced  by  a  delinea- 
tion of  the  previous  condition  of  the  kingdom.  For  the 
redemption  of  the  horrors,  the  narrative  of  Arthur's  bene- 
ficent improvements  is  barely  sufficient : — 

And  thus  the  land  of  Cameliard  was  waste, 
Thick  with  wet  woods,  and  many  a  beast  therein, 
And  none  or  few  to  scare  or  chase  the  beast ; 
So  that  wild  dog,  and  wolf  and  boar  and  bear 
Came  night  and  day,  and  rooted  in  the  fields. 
And  wallow'd  in  the  gardens  of  the  King. 
And  ever  and  anon  the  wolf  would  steal 
The  children  and  devour,  but  now  and  then, 
Her  own  brood  lost  or  dead,  lent  her  fierce  teat 
To  human  sucklings  ;  and  the  children,  housed 
In  her  foul  den,  there  at  their  meat  would  growl, 
And  mock  their  foster-mother  on  four  feet. 
Till,  straighten'd,  they  grew  up  to  wolf-like  men, 
Worse  than  the  wolves. 

Steength  for  Pathos. 

When  a  pathetic  effect  is  aimed  at,  care  must  be  taken 
that  Strength  is  not  substituted  for  it. 

This  may  happen  in  several  ways.  For  example,  sorrow 
may  be  expressed  in  the  passionate  forms  of  anger  or  hatred, 
which  produce  the  effects  of  Strength  instead  of  Tender 
Feeling.  Or  a  scene  intended  to  be  pathetic  may  have  its 
gi-ander  aspects  enlarged  upon,  so  that  the  impression  of 
these  may  be  what  chiefly  remains.  Or,  again,  the  conduct 
of  a  sufferer  may  be  so  painted  that  we  rather  admire 
his  moral  elevation  than  sympathize  wuth  his  sufferings. 

It  is  a  matter  of  fact  that  our  greatest  geniuses  are  more 
successful  in  Strength  than  in  Feeling.  This  is  shown  in 
setting  forth  the  higher  degrees  of  the  love  emotion ;   the 


Shakespeare's  pathos  running  into  strength.     227 

figures  chosen  being  figures  of  intensity  that  satisfy  the 
intellect  without  touching  the  heart.  The  remark  applies 
in  a  pre  eminent  degree  to  Shakespeare.  His  love  hyper- 
boles are  calculated  purely  for  intensity  of  degree  ;  they 
are  apt  to  be  incompatible  with  tender  feeling.  When 
Cleopatra  says  of  Antony,  '  His  face  was  as  the  heavens,' 
she  makes  us  look  upon  him  with  admiration  and  astonish- 
ment, and  on  herself  as  worked  up  to  a  pitch  of  frenzy,  but 
neither  effect  is  of  the  nature  of  love. 

Macbeth's  splendid  outburst  of  dubitation  before  the 
murder,  has  touches  of  the  highest  pathos ;  yet  with  lapses 
into  imagery  of  pure  strength,  which  only  the  genius  of  the 
pathetic  figures  can  render  otherwise  than  discordant : — 

Besides,  this  Duncan 
Hatli  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 
So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 
Will  plead  like  angels,  trumpet-tongu'd,  against 
The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking-off ; 
And  pity,  like  a  naked  new-born  babe, 
Striding  the  blast,  or  heaven's  cherubm,  hors'd 
Upon  the  sightless  couriers  of  the  air. 
Shall  blow  the  horrid  deed  in  every  eye. 
That  tears  shall  drown  the  wind. 

The  first  lines  anticipate  a  burst  of  moral  indignation  for  tlie 
criminality  of  the  deed  ;  the  amiability  and  nobleness  of 
Duncan  being  tributary  to  the  effect.  It  is  a  pure 
stroke  of  Shakespearean  strength.  The  pathos  lies  in  the 
second  part,  which  begins  with  a  touching  figure  of  tender- 
ness, '  a  naked  new-born  babe ' ;  but  the  adjunct,  '  striding 
the  blast,'  does  not  carry  out  the  figure,  but  invests  the 
helpless  object  with  an  unnatural  exercise  of  power.  The 
same  applies  to  'heaven's  cherubin,'  which  are  objects  of 
the  child-like  type,  but  with  a  certain  maturity  qualifying 
them  for  active  functions ;  so  that  they  are  not  improperly 
horsed  on  the  couriers  of  the  air.  Yet  the  energy  of  the 
concluding  lines  is  too  much  for  a  tender  personation. 

PEOMISCUOUS   PASSAGES. 

Few  pieces  will  show  better  on  a  minute  examination,  or  prove 
more  illustrative,  than  Coleridge's  poem  called  'Love  '. 

All  thovights,  all  passions,  all  delights, 

Whatever  stirs  this  mortal  frame, 
All  are  but  ministers  of  Love, 

And  feed  his  sacred  flame. 


223  FEELING — EXEMrLIFICATION. 

Intensity  of  expression ;  yet  the  two  first  lines  have  little  of  the 
love  harmony  m  them  :  '  thoughts  '  least,  '  deUghts '  most.  The 
next  lines  are  in  full  keepmg : — 

Oft  in  my  waking  dreams  do  I 

Live  o'er  again  that  happy  hour, 

When  midwaj-  on  the  mount  I  lay, 
Beside  the  ruin'd  tower. 

The  moonshine,  stealing  o'er  the  scene, 

Had  blended  with  the  lights  of  eve  ; 

And  she  was  there,  my  hope,  my  joy. 
My  own  dear  Genevieve  ! 
The  whole  situation  is  dehcately  and  suitably  chosen  for  romaiice ; 
— '  the  ruin'd  tower  ' ;  '  the  moonshine  blended  with  the  lights  of 
eve ' ;  while  both  circumstances  are  mamtamed  in  our  view  by 
brief  allusions  in  the  succeeding  stanzas.  The  two  concluding 
lines  are  simplicity  itself,  yet,  the  words  being  chosen  at  once  for 
emotional  keeping  and  for  melodj-,  they  are  all  that  we  can  wish. 

She  iean'd  against  the  armed  man, 

The  statue  of  the  armed  knight ; 

She  stood  and  listened  to  my  lay. 
Amid  the  lingering  light. 
The  position  is  expressive  and  readily  conceived.     We  are  to  have 
a  tale  of  a  bold  and  lovely  knight ;  and  the  statue  is  a  material 
support  to  fancy.      The  '  lingering  light '  continues  the  previous 
allusion. 

Few  sorrows  hath  she  of  her  own. 

My  hope,  my  joy,  my  Genevieve ! 

She  loves  me  best  whene'er  I  sing 
The  songs  that  make  her  grieve. 
A  matter  of  fact  converted  into  rich  pathos.  The  poet's  invention 
has  brought  forth  a  choice  delicacy  of  love  sentiment ;  such  happy 
strokes  are  the  surest  antidote  to  maudlin.  It  is  an  actual  truth 
that  the  fresh  luiwom  mind  can  bear  with  the  depths  of  grief, 
without  passing  the  limit  where  pity  t^^rns  to  pain. 

I  played  a  soft  and  doleful  air, 

I  sang  an  old  and  movmg  story — 

An  old  rude  song,  that  suited  well 
That  ruin  wild  and  hoary. 
The  pathetic  and  the   antique  here  support  each  other,  as  it  is 
tlieir  nature  to  do.      All  the  terms  are  choice,  and  breathe  the 
odoiu:  of  tenderness. 

She  listened  with  a  fitting  blush. 

With  downcast  eyes  and  modest  grace ; 

For  well  she  knew,  I  could  not  choose 
But  gaze  upon  her  face. 
The  point  of  this  is  the  delicate  innuendo  of  self-consciousness  on 


Coleridge's  '  genevieve  '.  229 

# 
the  part  of  the  peerless  beauty,  an  allowance  that  qualifies  the 
ideal  picture  of  loveliness,  without  spoiling  it  as  an  ideal.  This 
too  is  a  remedy  against  maudlin.  The  skilled  novelist  knows  to  in- 
troduce touches  of  human  weakness  into  the  most  perfect  characters. 
The  remainder  of  the  poem  consists  of  the  tale  of  the  noble  and 
chivalrous  knight,  and  the  effect  of  all  its  windings  upon  Genevieve, 
ending  in  a  complete  conquest  of  her  affections.  The  design  is  ori- 
gmal,  and  the  working  out  has  the  like  grace  and  finish  of  language  ; 
never  a  word  out  of  keeping,  and  the  melody  always  of  the  richest. 
The  stanzas  commented  upon  sufficiently  represent  the  whole. 

Keats's  '  Eve  of  St.  Agnes '  is  made  much  of  by  Leigh  Himt, 
but  scarcely  bears  the  weight  of  his  eulogy.  It  is  a  romantic  tale 
of  love  and  successful  adventure ;  the  merit  consisting  in  the 
unagery  and  pictorial  circumstances ;  very  origmal  and  quaint, 
sometimes  harmonious,  sometimes  heart-touching,  but  not  by  any 
means  equal;  it  cannot  be  compared  with  Coleridge's  '  liove'. 

Although  the  minute  examination  of  the  poem  appeals  oftener 
to  individual  feeling  than  to  reasoned  criticism,  yet  there  is  scope 
for  both,  as  well  as  for  copious  illustration  of  poetic  effects. 

The  first  stanza  is  a  pictorial  grouping  to  express  chilhiess. 
Being  painful,  the  poetry  must  be  exquisitely  harmonious,  and  must 
not  simply  add  to  the  depression.  The  effect  to  be  realized  may 
possibly  be  a  re-action,  or  cheering  contrast,  which,  however,  is 
barely  attained. 

The  poor  old  beadsman  is  pathetic  in  the  ordinary  sense ;  he 
inspires  our  pity,  but  his  age  makes  it  lighter.  The  circumstances 
invented  to  project  his  feeling  of  chilhiess  are  curious  and  suited 
to  the  scene,  but  not  inspiring. 

The  sculptured  dead  on  each  side  seem  to  freeze — 
is  not  an  enchanting  or  felicitous  thovight ;  it  carries  the  enlivening 
of  the  dead  too  far.  Only  a  bold  imagination,  with  unusual  motive, 
would  go  the  length  of  bringing  human  emotion  out  of  stone 
figures  ;  we  could  sooner  draw  it  out  of  trees  and  flowers,  which 
have  a  hving  interest  to  begin  with. 

Emprison'd  in  black  purgatorial  rails — 
is  equally  forced,  and  eqiially  unable  to   quicken  emotion  in  an 
ordinary  mind.     It  is  glooiny  enough,  but  not  an  inspiring  gloom  ; 
heavy,  stony,  stiff.     Not  like  Shakespeare's  '  thriUing  ice '. 

— and  his  weak  spirit  fails 
To  think  how  they  may  ache  in  icy  hoods  and  mails. 
The  poet  produces  a  depression  that  he  does  not  intend,  if  he  pro- 
duces any  effect  at  all ;  we  may  refuse  to  undergo  the  labour  of 
imagination,  for  so  little  of  the  reward. 

Hunt  admires  the  lines  in  Stanza  III. : — 

—  Music's  golden  tongue 
Flatter'd  to  tears  this  aged  man  and  poor. 


230  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  epithet  '  golden '  may  operate  as  a  compJiment.  but  it  does 
not  fuse  with  the  notion  of  music  ;  the  disparity  of  the  senses 
stops  the  way.  The  word  '  flatter'd '  is  supposed  to  express  with 
fehcity  the  stirring  and  elevating  effect  of  the  music,  although 
combined  with  tears,  which  might  be  joyful  ;  but  the  interpreta- 
tion is  very  roundabout.  It  is  not  obviously  suited  to  all  minds, 
although  it  has  an  assignable  connexion. 

At  the  end  of  Stanza  IV.,  there  is  a  further  attempt  to  give  life 
to  the  sculptured  figures  : — 

The  carved  angels,  ever  eager-eyed, 

Stared,  where  upon  their  heads  the  cornice  rests, 

"With  hair  blown  back,  and  wings  put  cross-wise  on  their  breasts. 
This  is  a  smaller  Hight.  It  is  one  of  those  attempts  to  picture 
with  vividness,  by  animated  phraseologA'.the  sculptured  expression, 
without  giving  the  stony  figures  emotion.  Enough,  if  it  be  sug- 
gestive of  the  fact,  and  also  calculated  to  increase  the  admiration 
of  the  artist.  It  is  the  calling  up  of  what  does  not  strike  the  com- 
mon eye ;  and  what  we  are  pleased  to  find  discovered.  From 
Stanza  VI.  we  quote — 

They  told  her  how,  upon  St.  Agnes'  eve. 
Yoimg  virgins  might  have  visions  of  delight  ; 
And  soft  adorings  from  their  loves  receive 
Upon  the  honey'd  middle  of  the  night. 

The  combination  '  soft  adorings  '  is  in  fuU  keeping ,  '  the  honey'd 
laiddle  of  the  night,'  is  one  of  Keats's  daring  contiguities.     It  is 
original,  and  not  unsuitable  ;  yet  we  must  not  press  the  meaning 
of  honey  too  far,  or  it  will  fail  us. 
Stanza  VII : — 

Full  of  this  whim  was  thoughtful  Madeline: 
The  music,  yearning  like  a  god  in  pain, 
She  scarcely  heard  :  her  maiden  eyes  divine 
Fix'd  on  the  floor, — 

The  'yearning'  of  the  music  'like  a  god  in  pain'  is  an  original 
and  striking  description  of  an  effect  characteristic  of  the  highest 
music-emotion,  massive  and  vague,  and  seeming  to  strive  after 
more  definite  expression.  The  '  maiden  eyes  divine '  is  a  felicitous 
conjunction,  ranking  with  the  human  face  divine  ;  much  more 
unctuous  than  the  epithets  describing  the  sculptured  figures. 

Stanza  X.  A  powerful  description  of  the  blood-thirsty 
tenants  of  the  place. 

Hyena  foemen,  and  hot-blooded  lords, 
"Whose  very  dogs  would  execrations  howl 
Against  his  lineage. 

Then  comes  the  picture  of  the  poor  old  woman — 

Save  one  old  beldame,  weak  in  body  and  in  soul. 


KEATS'S    '  EVE    OF    ST.    AGNES  *.  231 

She  guides  Porphyro  till — 

He  found  him  in  a  little  moonlit  room, 
Pale,  latticed,  chill,  and  silent  as  a  tomb. 

The  groupinf^  here  is  intended  both  to  give  a  picture  and  to  imbue 
it  with  the  feelings  of  cold  and  loneliness.  For  the  picture,  the 
helps  are  'little,'  'latticed,'  'moonlit,'  and  'pale'  —  size,  form, 
and  illumination  ;  by  no  means  an  effective  grouping,  especially  in 
the  arrangement  given.  The  comparison,  '  silent  as  a  tomb,'  is 
apt  and  powerful,  in  spite  of  commonness. 

Stanza  XV.     Of  tlae  old  woman  it  is  said — 

Feebly  she  laugheth  in  the  languid  moon — • 

a  harmonizing  conjunction  between  the  weakness  of  the  old  creature 
and  the  scenic  embodiment.     The  force  of  the  combination  eludes 
analysis ;  it  aims  at  being  poetical,  but  may  possibly  be  lost  upon 
the  mass  of  readers. 
Stanza  XXI. : — 

Safe  at  last. 
Through  many  a  dusky  gallery,  they  gain 
The  maiden's  chamber,  silken,  hush'd  and  chaste — 

intended  to  be  suggestive,  both  of  a  picture  and  of  the  purity  of 
Madeline  ;  and  to  a  certain  limited  extent  answers  the  end. 

The  poet's  genius  is,  however,  reserved  for  the  sleeping  case- 
ment and  the  maiden  herself.  Stanza  XXIV.  gives  an  elaborate 
picture,  which  admits  of  being  examined  for  the  laws  of  descrip- 
tion, while  the  emotional  keeping  is  one  of  Keats's  successes  in 
the  art. 

In  Stanza  XXV.  Madeline  is  seen  at  her  devotions  : — 

As  down  she  knelt  for  heaven's  grace  and  boon ; 
Kose-bloom  fell  on  her  hands  together  prest, 
And  on  her  silver  cross  soft  amethyst, 
And  on  her  hair  a  glory,  like  a  saint : 
She  seemed  a  splendid  angel,  newly  drest. 
Save  wings,  for  heaven. 

There  is  little  attempt  at  giving  a  picture,  but  the  images  are  aU 
emotionally  suitable  to  a  pure  and  saintly  beauty. 
In  Stanza  XXVI.  :— 

Unclasps  her  warmed  jewels  one  by  one  ; 

Loosens  her  fragrant  boddice  ;  by  degrees 

Her  rich  attire  creeps  rustling  to  her  knees ; 

Half  hidden,  like  a  mermaid  in  seaweed. 

The  poet  here  wakens  our  different  senses  with  his  suggestive 
imagery — -warmth,  fragi"ance,  rustling  sound  ;  and  goes  far  to  dis- 
close to  us  a  beautiful  naked  figure,  made  more  impressive  by 
active  and  partial  concealment. 

The  greatest  effect  remaining  is  in  Stanza  XXXVI.,  where  the 
emotion  of  Porphyro,  on  being  addressed  in  earnest  love  tones  by 


232  FEELING — EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Madeline,   is   described    by   the   highest   intensity   of    subjective 
language,  aided  by  objective  settings. 

As  a  narrative  and  descriptive  poem,  there  is  a  defect  of  set- 
ting in  the  surrounding  scene. 

Time  past  lends  itself  to  Pathos  in  various  ways.  To  recall 
the  fortiuies  of  those  that  have  passed  away  may  awaken  a  pathetic 
interest,  as  well  as  the  admiration  of  greatness  and  the  detestation 
of  tyrants  and  oppressors.  Horace  Smith's  '  Muunny '  is  an  attempt 
to  imagine  Egyptian  hfe  and  history,  through  the  survival  of  one 
human  frame.  A  short  example  of  the  same  kuid  is  seen  in  Keats's 
'Nightingale' : — 

The  voice  I  hear  this  passing  night  was  heard 

In  ancient  days  by  emperor  and  clown  : 
Perhaps  the  self-same  song  that  found  a  path 

Through  the  sad  heart  of  Euth,  when,  sick  for  home, 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  alien  corn. 
This  bold  device  is  not  always  successful ;  it  must  come  as  a  sur- 
prise, and  have  more  than  usual  appropriateness. 

The  examples  may  be  fittinglj^  closed  with  Matthew  Arnold's 
little  Ode — Requiescat.  The  jiathos  of  Death,  as  deliverance  from 
trouble  and  life-weariness,  is  enhanced  by  the  fine  touches  of 
character  ;  the  writer's  own  sympathies  concurring. 

Strew  on  her  roses,  roses, 

And  never  a  spray  of  yew  1 
In  quiet  she  reposes  ; 

AJi !  would  that  I  did  too. 

Her  mirth  the  world  required  ; 

She  bathed  it  in  smiles  of  glee. 
But  her  heart  was  tired,  tii-ed, 

And  now  they  let  her  be. 

Her  life  was  turning,  turning. 

In  mazes  of  heat  and  sound  ; 
But  for  peace  her  soul  was  yearning, 

And  now  peace  laps  her  round. 

Her  cabin'd,  ample  spirit, 

It  fluttered  and  failed  for  breath  ; 

To-night  it  doth  inherit 
The  vasty  hall  of  death. 

•  The  vasty  hall  of  death '  suggests  the  remark  that  the  poetry 
of  death  has  passed  from  the  pathos  of  pure  negation,  as  in  Job — 
'  Ye  siiall  seek  me  in  the  morning,  but  I  shdll  not  be  ' — to  tho 
imagination  of  something  positive,  however  vague. 


VITUPERATION.— THE  LUDICKOUS. 

There  is  a  large  department  of  Literature  marked 
out  by  the  terms — Comic,  Ludicrous,  Humour,  Wit. 
The  effects  thus  designated  admit  of  critical  adjustment. 

It  is  known  that  Greek  Comedy  had  its  rise  in  the  jeering  and 
vituperation  exchanged  during  the  processions  in  honour  of  the  god 
Dionysus,  or  Bacchus.  At  first,  this  was  simply  the  pleasure  of  coarse 
malignity.  When,  however,  the  regular  comedy  was  matured,  there 
was  still  vituperation  and  ridicule,  but  accompanied  with  literary 
skill  and  refinement— in  consequence  of  which,  the  interest  survived  to 
after  ages.  The  milder  forms  of  Ridicule,  such  as  we  now  term  the 
Ludicrous  and  Humour,  were  cultivated  along  with  those  severer  out- 
bursts, whereby  Comedy  was  rendered  a  weapon  of  denunciation  in  the 
conflicts  of  political  parties.  But  even  the  mildest  forms  could  not 
dispense  with  vilifying,  degrading  or  otherwise  maltreating  persons, 
institutions  and  other  objects  commanding  veneration  or  respect. 

This  brings  us  round  once  more  to  the  seemingly  in- 
exhaustible pleasure  of  Malignity,  already  referred  to  as 
prominent  in  the  Quality  of  Stkength  (p.  64).  There  is  a 
gradual  shading,  from  the  effects  described  under  Strength 
to  the  present  class  ;  the  extremes  being  sufficiently  well- 
marked.  From  the  Sublime  to  the  Ridiculous  is  a  consider- 
able step :  yet,  if  we  start  from  the  malignant  Sublime,  the 
descent  is  natural  and  easy.  Without  some  infusion  of 
malignancy,  the  Comic  would  lose  its  force,  Humour  its 
unction. 

VITUPERATION. 

1.  In  approaching  the  Comic,  the  Ridiculous,  the 
Ludicrous,  we  may  halt  at  the  kindred  effect,  named 
Vituperation. 

To  vituperate,  abuse,  vihfy,  denounce,  calumniate, 
satirize, — is  so  far  a  distinct  operation;  it  may  or  may  not 
be  accompanied  by  the  ludicrous,  although  at  all  times  in 
near  alliance  with  that  quality.     Every  language  possesses 


234  VITUPERATION. 

a  vocabulary  suited  to  the  purpose.  There  is  a  gross  form, 
consisting  of  the  unstinted  employment  of  vilifying  epithets  ; 
and  a  more  refined  method,  by  which  it  is  possible  either 
to  increase  the  severity,  or  to  reconcile  it  better  with  our 
sympathies. 

Artistic  vituperation,  like  other  emotional  excellence, 
needs,  besides  a  large  command  of  the  vocabulary  of  abuse, 
original  combinations  and  illustrations ;  the  figures  of 
epigram,  innuendo  and  irony ;  rhythm  of  language,  and 
the  intellectual  arts  of  style  —  simplicity,  clearness  and 
impressiveness. 

In  Dramatic  Dialogue,  and  in  the  verbal  encounters  pre- 
paratory to  life-and-death  struggles  in  poetry  and  romance, 
may  be  found  exemplified  the  highest  arts  of  vituperative 
eloquence. 

Vituperation  enters  especially  into  Oratory,  as  a  means 
of  gaining  conviction.  Nearly  all  great  orators  afford 
examples  of  invective.  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  have  been 
censured  for  the  occasional  violence  and  coarseness  of  their 
abuse  of  opponents ;  in  other  words,  it  was  too  little  veiled 
and  redeemed  by  the  arts  and  graces  of  style. 

The  management  of  invective  with  a  view  to  effect  is 
exemplified  both  in  ancient  and  in  modern  literature, 
whether  as  oratory  or  as  poetry. 

The  speeches  of  Achilles  in  the  first  Iliad  are  powerful 
and  stinging  invective,  and  yet  not  coarse,  if  we  consider  the 
intensity  of  the  hero's  rage.  He  denounced  Agamemnon 
for  cowardice,  as  w-ell  as  injustice  and  robbery.  The 
language  is  dignified  as  well  as  strong  :  hearers  in  after 
times  would  regard  it  as  thoroughly  deserved,  and  con- 
sequently would  enjoy  its  severity  to  the  full.  The 
innuendo  of  the  lines — 

So  much  'tis  safer  through  the  camp  to  go, 
And  rob  a  subject,  than  despoil  a  foe — 

is  a  tremendous  sarcasm.  The  threat  that  he  utters  is  also 
dignified  although  plainly  stated,  and  is  redeemed  by  an 
appeal  to  the  gods,  to  whom  he  professes  submission. 

In  Jnh'ui  Cwmr  (V.  1.),  where  Shakespeare  brings  to- 
gether Antony  and  Octavius  on  one  side  and  Brutus  and 
Cassius  on  the  other  for  a  battle  of  words  before  Philippi, 
the  dramatic  and  narrative  elements  of  verbal  encounter 
before  the  real  fight  are  combined.  To  Brutus'  colourless 
query  '  Words  before  blows  ;  is  it  so,  countrymen  ?  '  comes 


SPECIAL   CONDITIONS,    POSITIVE    AND   NEGATIVE.         235 

Octavius'  sudden  outbreak — '  Not  that  we  love  words  better, 
as  you  do '  ;  and  then  for  thirty  lines  retort  begets  retort, 
each  intended  to  give  as  much  pain  as  possible.  At  points 
they  break  into  set  abuse  : — 

Villains,  you  did  not  so,  when  your  vile  daggers 

Hacked  one  another  in  the  sides  of  Caesar  : 

Yoia  showed  your  teeths  like  apes,  and  fa\\'ncd  like  hounds, 

And  bowed  like  bondmen,  kissing  Cnesar's  feet ; 

Whilst  damned  Casca,  like  a  cur,  behind 

Strook  Csesar  on  the  neck.     O  you  flatterers  ! 

Previously  had  come  a  retort  of  more  refined  execution  ; 
the  innuendo  by  praise  for  the  opposite  being  effective 
vituperation  : — 

Antony, 
The  posture  of  your  blows  are  yet  unknown  ; 
But  for  your  words,  they  rob  the  Hybla  bees, 
And  leave  them  honeyless. 

2.  The  more  special  conditions  of  Vituperation  are 
analogous  to  those  for  Strength  and  Feeling — (1)  De- 
lineation of  the  Object,  (2)  Harmonious  surroundings, 
(3)  Subjective  description. 

These  three  arts  are  universal  in  attempting  to  inspire 
feeling  in  connexion  with  any  given  object.  The  object 
itself  must  be  so  described  as  to  affect  us  emotionally  in  the 
way  that  is  intended ;  while,  by  selected  adjuncts  or  accom- 
paniments, the  effect  is  still  further  heightened.  Last  of  all, 
the  speaker's  own  feelings,  and  those  of  concurring  parties, 
must  be  made  to  tell  upon  the  minds  of  the  hearers. 

It  will  be  seen,  in  connexion  with  the  Ludicrous,  how 
the  second  condition — hax-monizing  adjuncts — can  be  made 
a  ruling  circumstance  in  producing  the  desired  efi'ect. 

3.  The  negative  condition  of  restraint  and  refine- 
ment, essential  to  the  malign  emotions  generally,  is 
here  particularly  called  for. 

The  instrument  of  malignity  being,  not  blows  but  words, 
its  regulation  is  purely  a  matter  of  verbal  adjustment. 

4.  Plausibility  must  be  carefully  attended  to,  when 
denunciation  is  unusually  strong. 

As  we  have  to  be,  in  part  at  least,  satisfied  with  the 
justice  of  the  incrimination,  our  misgivings  must  be  kept 
down  by  a  plausible  rendering.  In  a  weak  case,  there  is 
required  all  the  greater  skill  in  the  management. 


236  BIDICULE. — HUMOUR. 

KIDICULE. 
Eidicule  is  vituperation  accompanied  with  Derision. 

To  be  ourselves  laughed  at,  or  derided,  is  a  severe  in- 
fliction. Hence  to  laugh  at,  or  deride,  another  person  gives 
us  a  feast  of  malignity. 

Vituperation  passes  into  Eidicule  when  it  fastens  upon 
conduct  allied  with  weakness,  indignity,  insignificance  or 
contempt.  An  unusually  mischievous  character,  possessed 
of  power,  may  be  the  object  of  vituperation  and  opprobrium, 
but  not  necessarily  of  ridicule.  We  may  occasionally  com- 
bine the  two,  by  seizing  the  weak  points  of  a  character  in 
other  respects  pow^erful. 

The  Arts  of  Eidicule,  therefore,  consist  in  finding  out  all 
the  circumstances  that  can  insinuate  weakness,  or  attach 
indignity  and  disesteem.  To  make  one  out  a  fool ;  to 
suggest  bodily  feebleness,  inefficiency  or  ugliness  ;  to 
humble  pride  in  any  way, — are  means  to  provoke  derision 
or  ridicule.  Nevertheless,  w-e  have  still  to  take  precautions 
against  possible  failure,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  examples.* 

HUMOUE. 

1.  There  is  a  kind  of  Laughter  that  enters  into  the 
innocent  pleasures  of  mankind.  It  still  grows  out  of 
the  delight  in  mahgnity  ;  which,  however,  is  softened 
and  redeemed  in  a  variety  of  ways. 

Although  every  instance  of  the  Ludicrous  may  not  be 
obviously  connected  with  malignant  pleasure,  the  great 
majority  of  cases  will  be  seen  to  involve  it.  But  while 
vituperation  and  ridicule  aim  at  severe  and  humiliating 
inflictions,  the  Ludicrous  can  flourish  on  less  painful,  or 
even  trivial,  discomfitures  and  disasters.  There  is  a  well- 
marked  difference  between  ridicule  and  raillery ;  yet  a 
difference,  not  in  kind,  but  in  degree.  Nothing  can  better 
attest  the  reality  and  depth  of  our  malignant  pleasures  than 
the  delight  obtained  from  causing  or  witnessing  even  the 
most  trilling  annoyances. 

2.  While  Laughter  is  a  marked  accompaniment  of 

*  While  the  substantive  '  Ridicule'  is  expressive  of  a  severe  form  of  vitupera- 
tion, the  ailjective  '  ridiculous  '  is  much  milder  in  its  application  ;  being  very  little 
stronger  than  the  ludicrous  or  the  laughable. 


CAUSES   OP   LAUGHTEE.  237 

pleasure  generally,  it  is  most  identified  with  certain 
special  modes  of  pleasure. 

As  Laughter  is  common  to  Ridicule  and  Humour,  its  causes 
and  occasions  may  be  here  reviewed :  these  being  wider  in  their 
sweep  than  the  effects  special  to  our  present  topic  of  discussion. 

(1)  It  is  an  accompaniment  of  mere  exuberant  spirits,  without 
any  more  special  motive  than  abundance  of  nervous  energy. 

(2)  A  sudden  burst  of  good  fortune  or  success,  no  matter  what 
or  how,  being  productive  of  general  elation  of  mind,  will  express 
itself  in  laughter  among  other  joyful  indications. 

(3)  Sudden  re-action  from  constraint  is  a  cause  of  the  same 
general  elation  of  mental  tone,  with  its  gleeful  accompaniments. 
Thi^s  enters  into  the  Ludicrous,  when  levity  is  confronted  with 
seriousness,  gravity  or  solemnity. 

(4)  Victory  in  a  conflict  is  a  more  specific  occasion  of  laughter 
than  any  of  the  foregoing.  Hence  its  tendency  to  accompany 
malign  emotion  in  general.  Vituperation,  when  successful  as  a 
fighting  weapon,  will  occasion  the  laugh  of  victory.  This  passes 
into  the  laugh  of  Derision,  wherein  power,  superiority  or  tritunph 
of  some  sort  is  implicated. 

(5)  The  laugh  of  self-complacency  is  well  known  ;  it  is  related 
more  or  less  closely  to  the  foregoing  varieties. 

(6)  There  is  a  laugh  of  kindliness  and  benevolence,  which  con- 
nects the  state  with  our  affectionate  side,  when  we  are  in  a  happy 
frame,  and  able  to  bestow  happiness. 

The  Liidici-ous  means  lavghing  at  some  person  or  thing,  thus 
excluding  such  occasions  of  laughter  as  animal  spirits  generally, 
and  the  smile  of  kindly  affection.  It  points  more  particvUai-ly  to 
Victory,  Malignity  and  Power,  as  the  examples  will  show. 

In  witnessing  the  infliction  of  pain  or  suffering,  we  are 
moved  in  opposite  ways.  On  the  one  hand,  we  may  be  sym- 
pathetically affected,  so  as  to  make  the  pain  our  own  ;  on  the 
other  hand,  we  may  restrain  symj^athy  and  allow  free  scope  to 
our  malignant  satisfaction.  It  is  the  mutual  accommodation  of 
these  two  opposing  tendencies  that  determines  the  scope  afforded 
to  our  enjoyment  of  the  ludicrous.  Some  pains  affect  our  sym- 
pathies exclusively :  such  are  the  severer  modes  of  infl-ictions  and 
calamity.  Among  savages,  a  drowning  man's  struggles  will  be 
viewed  with  exultant  laughter ;  while  the  enlargement  of  the  sphere 
of  sympathy  is  a  characteristic  of  human  progress.  The  admissible 
range  of  the  Ludicrous  is  adapted  to  the  standard  of  fellow-feeling 
prevalent  among  ourselves  ;  so  that,  in  surveying  the  literature  of 
past  times,  we  have  to  make  due  allowance  for  the  varying  range 
of  sympathies  prevailing  in  different  ages  and  countries. 

The  following  is  a  brief  summary  of  the  chief  occasions  of  our 
enjoyment  of  the  Ludicrous  m  actual  life. 

A  very  large   department  is   expressed  by  the  spectacle  of 


238  HUMOUE. 

weakness,  impotence,  failure,  miscarriage,  stumbling,  being 
thwarted ;  the  circumstances  being  such  as  not  to  bring  sj-mpathy 
into  play. 

Being  beaten  in  a  conflict ;  being  checked  in  anything  we  have 
undertaken ;  committing  some  gi'oss  eiTor  in  a  public  display ; 
blunders,  inaccuracies  and  awkwardness  of  speech  ;  being  put  about 
by  trifles  ;  making  great  exertions  for  smaU  results ;  being  chaffed 
and  jeered  at ;  being  slightly  intoxicated  ;  being  defied  by  our 
inieriors; — these,  and  such  like,  expose  us  to  the  laughter  of  by- 
standers, the  infliction  not  being  severe  enough  to  rouse  either  our 
syuapathy  or  some  of  the  strong  emotions,  as  anger  or  fear. 

AVeakness  in  all  forms,  not  of  a  kind  to  rouse  sympathy,  may 
excite  laughter.  When  the  love-passion  becomes  imcontroll^ble 
and  extreme,  as  a  temporary  frenzy,  it  is  apt  to  be  laughed  at.  If 
it  can  maintain  itself  m  permanence,  it  is  admired. 

Of  all  forms  of  weakness.  Folly  in  some  shape  is  the  kind  most 
universally  adopted  into  Comedy.  The  ways  that  a  man  may 
make  a  fool  of  himself  are  coimtless  ;  and  comic  characters  have 
been  drawn  on  this  type  in  every  age.  One  favourite  mode  is  the 
solemn  assertion  of  common-places,  as  in  Don  Quixote.  Another 
mode  is  extreme  seriousness  in  trifles,  as  Lamb's  '  Sarah  Battle '. 

It  is  an  aggravation  when  weakness,  or  failure,  has  been 
accompanied  with  assumption,  boastmg,  self-conceit,  coxcombry; 
the  suspension  of  sympathy  being  then  most  complete.  To  throw 
down  or  humfliate  a  swaggerer  is  always  an  miqualified  pleasure. 
"When  weakness  is  accompanied  with  modesty,  humflity  or  tmpre- 
tentiousness,  the  sting  is  efl'ectuall.v  drawn. 

It  is  only  giving  one  single  aspect,  vmder  the  present  head,  to 
mention  the  wide-spread  influence  of  Loss  of  Dignity,  or  Degrada- 
tion in  esteem  or  importance.  We  refrain,  in  ordinary  circiim- 
stances,  fromrejoicmg  over  injury  to  person  or  estate,  but  we  do  not 
maintain  tlie  same  sympathetic  regard  for  people's  conventional 
dignity  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  We  are  naturally  jealous  of  any 
superiority  in  tliis  respect,  and  when  something  happens  to  puU 
down  any  one  from  the  pmnacle  of  a  superior  position,  we  are  apt 
to  indulge  ourselves  in  a  burst  of  malicious  gratification,  and  to 
signify  it  by  the  laugh. 

The  most  expressive  indication  of  weakness  is  fright ;  and 
hence  the  pleasure  that  we  are  apt  to  take  in  seeing  any  one  suddenly 
terrified,  there  being  no  serious  mischief  in  the  case.  Cowardice 
and  timidity  inspire  either  contempt  or  ridicule ;  and  cowards  are 
largely  em[)loyed  as  material  for  the  ludicrous. 

There  may  be  an  equally  gratifying  proof  of  weakness  in  being 
thrown  into  a  fit  of  gi"ief,  or  made  angry.  This  is  one  of  the 
gratilications  of  teasing. 

Hypocrisy  receives  its  punishment  by  ridicule  and  laughter. 
Sanctimonious  hypocrites  ai'e  es[)ecially  tlie  butts  of  comedy. 

A  favourite  variety  of  ludicrous  degradation  is  the  contact  with 
filth  or  pollution,  and  the  production  of  malodours;  enough  to 


THE    LUDICROUS   IN    LITERARY   COMPOSITION.  239 

cause  annoyance  without  serious  injury.  To  burn  assafoetida  in  a 
room  is  considered  a  good  practical  joke.  The  pain  is  acute  but 
temporary,  and  free  from  bad  consequences. 

The  pleasure  of  causing  or  witnessing  degradation  extends  to 
the  established  government,  religion,  and  the  sanctities  and 
decencies  of  life.  Hence  vilification  and  profanation  of  the  solemn 
and  sacred  rites  of  society  may  become  causes  of  ludicrous  plea- 
sure. As,  however,  the  respecters  of  law  and  religion  are  offended 
by  such  liberties,  they  are  chiefly  taken  with  creeds  and  ritual  that 
are  losing  their  hold  of  manlvind  ;  as  in  Lucian's  severe  ridicule  of 
the  pagan  gods. 

3.  The  Ludicrous  or  Humour,  as  a  form  of  literary- 
composition,  must  work  on  the  same  hnes,  and  take 
up  the  same  occasions,  as  in  the  actual ;  hut  with  the 
advantage  of  an  unlimited  scope  in  imagining  con- 
junctions suited  to  the  effect ;  while  the  essence  of  the 
art  lies  in  the  mollifying  ingredients  that  appease  the 
sympathies  without  marring  the  dehght. 

The  means  to  this  end  are  various  : — 

(1)  As  already  implied,  the  Ludicrous  in  the  form  of 
Humour  fastens  on  the  slighter  forms  of  giving  paiu. 
There  is  in  consequence  an  unavoidable  diminution  of 
malignant  pleasure  ;  this,  however,  may  be  more  than  made 
up  in  the  abeyance  of  sympathy,  which  permits  the  full 
swing  of  such  enjoyment  as  the  occasion  supplies. 

(2)  In  ludicrous  degi'adation,  we  may  aim  at  points  of 
character  that  persons  do  not  pride  themselves  upon,  or 
else  upon  what  cannot  be  seriously  assailed. 

We  may  laugh  at  the  slovenliness  in  dress  of  one  that  is 
indifferent  to  appearance. 

Macaulay  shows  his  good  humour  in  quoting  a  descrip- 
tion of  himself  from  Blackwood — '  A  little,  splay-footed,  ugly 
dumpling  of  a  fellow,'  and  then  remarking — '  Conceive  how 
such  a  charge  must  affect  a  man  so  enamoured  of  his  beauty 
as  I  am'. 

Ijkew'ise,  it  is  mere  innocent  raillery  to  pretend  that  a 
millionaire  cannot  afford  indulgence  and  hospitality.  The 
force  of  the  jest  w^ould  lie  in  an  innuendo  of  stinginess. 

(3)  To  make  a  person  utter  jests  at  his  own  expense 
is  the  most  humorous  of  any.  This  dispenses  with  all 
sympathy,  through  the  voluntary  self-surrender  of  the  party 
himself.     This  is  the  humour  of  the  fools  of  Comedy. 

To  constitute  a  genial  and  good-humoured  company,  it 


240  HUMOUE. 

is  essential  that   each,   in  his  turn,  should  submit  to  be 
laughed  at. 

Sydney  Smith's  remark  to  the  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's,  on 
the  proposal  to  lay  a  wooden  pavement  round  the  building, — 
'  if  ice  lay  oar  heads  together,  the  thing  is  done,' — was  witty 
and  humorous.  If  any  one  outside  had  said, — '  if  you  lay 
your  heads  together,' — it  would  have  wanted  the  humour. 
Thackeray's  '  Snobs  of  England '  is  said  to  be  hy  one  of  them- 
selves. At  the  time  w^hen  the  theories  of  the  origin  of 
language  were  hotly  debated  in  the  Philological  Society,  one 
of  the  members  remarked,  '  Every  one  of  us  thinks  all  the 
rest  mad';  the  view  taken,  at  Shakespeare's  dictation,  of 
the  English  generally,  by  the  gravedigger  in  Hamlet. 

(4)  The  degradation  may  be  made  the  occasion  of  a 
compliment.  A  man  is  often  raised  into  importance  by 
being  publicly  caricatured.  It  is  possible  to  pass  off,  by 
the  seasoning  of  a  little  jocularity,  an  amount  of  adulation 
that  would  otherwise  make  the  object  of  it  uncomfortable. 
(For  examples,  see  Wit.) 

(5)  One  great  softening  application  is  the  mixture  of 
tender  and  kindly  feeling  with  the  ludicrous  effect.  This  is 
a  recognized  distinction  between  humourists  in  the  best 
sense,  as  Chaucer,  Shakespeai'e,  Addison,  Burns,  Scott, 
Eichter,  and  those  that  have  little  or  no  redeeming  tender- 
ness, as  Swift,  Pope,  and  Voltaire.  Hence,  the  frequent 
remark  that  the  same  writer  excels  at  once  in  pathos  and 
in  humour.  There  is  humour  in  Froissart's  saying — '  The 
Saxons  take  their  pleasures  sadly,  after  their  fashion '. 
This  brings  out  a  touch  of  pity  to  temper  the  somewhat 
ridiculous  picture. 

(6)  High  poetic  originality  or  beauty  is  accepted  as 
redeeming  the  severity  of  derisive  laughter.  This  is  the 
one  great  justification  of  Aristophanes.  Whence  it  is,  that 
malignity,  in  every  form, — whether  vituperation,  ridicule 
or  humour — is  rendered  tolerable  and  acceptable  by  the 
genius  of  style,  when  nothing  else  would  quiet  our  com- 
punctions of  pity  for  the  victim.  We  shall  have  to  advert 
more  fully  to  the  connexion  with  Wit,  which  has  import- 
ance enough  to  be  treated  apart. 

(7)  The  ludicrous  may  be  the  accompaniment  of  dis- 
quisitions on  matters  of  knowledge  or  instruction,  as  in  the 
political  articles  of  Sydney  Smith. 

(8)  There  remains  a  large  sphere  of  unchecked  malignant 


MALIGNITY    SOFTENED    INTO    HUMOUR.  241 

gratification.  Much  of  the  enjoyment  of  mankind  arises 
from  victimizing,  in  idea,  the  absent,  the  dead,  and  the 
imaginary.  Doubtless  the  satisfaction  would  be  still  greater 
to  see  the  sufferers  writhing  under  the  infliction :  but  this 
has  its  drawbacks,  in  consequence  of  our  possessing  a  tender 
and  sympathetic  as  well  as  a  malevolent  side.  We  accept 
a  smaller  pleasure  that  is  free  from  compuixitions,  in  pre- 
ference to  a  greater  that  carries  a  sting  with  it. 

Historical  literature  and  fiction  have  multiplied,  and 
are  still  multiplying,  comic  pictures  without  end.  Every 
new  instance  possessing  the  attributes  essential  to  the 
Emotional  Qualities  in  general,  and  to  the  quality  of 
Humour  in  particular,  is  an  addition  to  our  pleasures.  At 
the  same  time,  there  is  a  growing  stringency  in  the  negative 
conditions  of  the  (X)mic  art,  especially  as  regards  vitupera- 
tion and  ridicule.  Not  only  must  our  sympathies  with 
actual  persons  be  taken  into  account ;  even  the  ideal  indul- 
gence in  malignity  and  horror  is  considered  as  unduly 
strengthening  what  is  already  too  strong  by  nature. 

(9)  Strange  to  say,  the  malignant  sentiment  can  find 
satisfaction  in  venting  itself  upon  the  inanimate  world.  The 
young  girl  can  make  her  doll  the  victim  of  her  displeasure, 
as  well  as  the  recipient  of  her  loving  caresses  ;  and  is  equally 
gratified  in  both  ways.  Savages,  disappointed  in  the  chase 
or  the  fight,  find  consolation  in  maltreating  the  images  of 
their  gods,  no  less  than  by  uncomplimentary  language. 

Hudibras  finds  an  occasion  for  the  ludicrous  in  the 
morning  dawn.  The  device  consists  in  a  degrading  or 
vulgarizing  simile  :  — 

The  sun  had  long  since,  in  the  lap 
Of  Thetis,  taken  out  his  nap, 
And,  like  a  lobster  boiled,  the  mom 
From  black  to  red  began  to  turn. 

At  the  time  when  the  sun  was  treated  as  a  person,  a 
great  comic  genius,  like  Aristophanes  or  Lucian,  could 
put  his  rising  into  a  ludicrous  form,  but  our  present  notions 
of  the  fact  resist  such  attempts. 

Likewise — 

For  he,  by  geo7nelric  scale. 

Could  take  the  size  of  pots  of  alo. 

People  have  a  kind  of  respect  for  geometry,  no  doubt,  and 
anything  that  is  respected  may  be  humorously  degraded, 
but  the  application  to  pots  of  ale  does  not  sufficiently  hurt 


242,  HUMOUR. 

the  feelings  of  the  most  susceptible  geometer  ;  as  a  jest  it 
tells  only  against  Hudibras  himself. 

Passing  now  to  the  classification  of  the  literaiy  embodi- 
ments of  the  present  quality,  we  find  a  number  of  designa- 
tions connected  with  language.  The  Figures  of  Speech 
named  'Epigram,'  'Irony,'  'Innuendo,'  and  'Hyperbole,' 
are  more  or  less  pressed  into  the  service  of  the  Comic  art. 
Exaggeration,  even  to  the  pitch  of  extravagance  and  ab- 
surdity, is  freely  employed  for  the  need  of  provoking 
laughter ;  nevertheless,  without  some  measure  of  originality 
or  genius,  it  cannot  attain  the  dignity  of  literary  art. 

Much  stress  is  laid  by  some  writers  on  the  Anti-climax, 
or  the  falling  down  from  a  high  to  a  low  degree  of  Dignity  or 
Strength.  By  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  this  is  a  species 
of  humiliation  or  degradation,  and  fits  in  exactly  with  the 
general  bearing  of  the  Ludicrous,  of  which  it  is  merely  one 
exemplification.  It  may  take  the  form  of  immense  expendi- 
ture for  small  result,  as  in  the  line  of  Horace — 
Parturiunt  montes,  nascetur  ridiculus  mus. 

4.  Conspicuous  among  the  express  designations  of 
the  Ludicrous  are — Parody,  Mock-heroic,  and  Bur- 
lesque. 

Common  to  all  these  is  the  conjunction,  through  lan- 
guage, of  the  dignified,  lofty,  serious,  estimable,  with  the 
mean,  vulgar,  indecorous,  indecent,  filthy. 

Parodij,  like  caricature  generally,  is  the  mimicking  of 
grand  and  serious  composition  in  a  vulgar  or  inferior  sub- 
ject. It  was  one  of  the  many  ways  that  Aristophanes 
derided  the  great  tragedians.  Of  modern  examples,  among 
the  best  known  are  Philips's  parody  of  Milton's  style,  and 
the  Rejected  Addresses,  which  caricatured  a  whole  generation 
of  authors.  The  humour  is  greatly  assisted  by  the  closeness 
of  the  imitation. 

Jlimicry  is  a  noted  source  of  pleasure,  of  the  purely  malevolent 
stamp.  Something  is  clue  to  the  skill  of  the  imitation,  hut  the  chief 
part  of  the  effect  is  the  humiliation  of  the  object  by  a  mixture  of  de- 
grading touches.  The  mere  fact  that  a  person  can  be  imitated  by 
another  seems  to  prove  smalincss  or  poverty  of  character,  implying  a 
certain  degree  of  inferiority.  The  mimicry  of  parrots  is  ludicrous  for 
the  same  reason. 

Savages  can  be  intensely  tickled  by  the  successful  mimicry  of 
their  chiefs. 


PAEODY. — MOCK-HEROIC.  243 

Not  far  removed  from  the  same  effect  is  the  Mnclc-heroic ; 
which  is  also  the  treating  of  mean  or  degrading  things  in 
the  style  of  high  compositioii,  without  imitating  any  author 
in  particular.  The  Burlesque  has  no  specific  difference  of 
meaning  ;  being  interchangeable  at  pleasure  with  the  two 
other  designations. 

Among  the  frequent  accompaniments  of  the  Laughable, 
whether  as  Humour  or  as  Wit,  have  to  be  comited  Oddity,  Incon- 
gruity and  Irrelevance.  These  are  sometimes  treated  as  the 
ultimate  explanation  of  the  quality,  and  as  not  depending  for  their 
efficacy  on  malevolent  pleasure. 

Oddity  is,  from  its  nature,  calculated  to  excite  attention  and 
surprise,  as  being  a  deviation  from  the  accustomed  routine  of 
things.  The  siu-prise  may  be  agreeable  or  it  may  be  the  opposite ; 
everything  depends  on  the  mode  and  the  circumstances.  The 
whimsical  gargojles  on  the  old  cathedrals  are  agreeable  or  not 
according  to  the  success  of  the  working  out.  As  degrading  carica- 
tures of  humanity,  they  give  the  pleasure  of  malevolence  ;  but  they 
may  also  fail  even  in  this,  from  feeble  execution. 

Incongruity  is  qualitied  in  the  same  manner.  There  are 
incongruities  that  give  pleasiire,  some  that  give  pain,  and  others 
that  do  neither.  George  Eliot  speaks  of  a  grating  incongruity. 
Sydney  Smith  rejects  the  explanation  absolutely  for  the  case  of  an 
Irish  bull. 

"  It  is  clear,"  he  says,  "that  a  bull  cannot  depend  upon  mere 
incongruity  alone  ;  for  if  a  man  were  to  say  that  he  would  ride  to 
London  upon  a  cocked  hat,  or  that  he  would  cut  his  throat  with  a 
pound  of  pickled  salmon,  this,  though  completely  incongruous, 
would  not  be  to  make  bulls,  but  to  talk  nonsense.  The  stronger 
the  apparent  connexion,  and  the  more  complete  the  real  dis- 
connexion of  the  ideas,  the  greater  the  surprise  and  the  better 
the  bull." 

His  ovna  explanation  of  Humour,  nevertheless,  is  wholly  based 
on  Incongruity.     He  gives  an  example  to  this  effect. 

"  As  you  increase  the  incongruity,  you  increase  the  humour  ; 
as  yo^^  diminish  it,  you  diminish  the  humour.  If  a  tradesman  of 
a  coirpulent  and  respectable  appearance,  with  habiliments  some- 
what ostentatious,  were  to  slide  down  gently  into  the  mud,  and 
dedecorate  a  pea-green  coat,  I  am  afraid  we  should  all  have  the 
barbarity  to  laugh.  If  his  hat  and  wig,  like  treacherous  servants, 
were  to  desert  their  falling  master,  it  certainly  would  not  diminish 
our  propensity  to  laugh  ;  but  if  he  were  to  fall  into  a  violent 
passion,  and  abuse  everybody  about  him,  nobody  could  possibly 
resist  the  incongruity  of  a  pea-green  tradesman,  very  respectable, 
sitting  in  the  mud,  and  threatening  all  the  passers-by  with  the 
effects  of  his  wrath.  Here  every  incident  heightens  the  humour 
of  the  scene  : — the  gaiety  of  his  tunic,  the  general  respectability  of 
his  appearance,  the  rills  of  muddy  water  which  trickle  down  his 


244  HUMOUE. 

cheeks,  and  the  harmless  violence  of  his  ra2:e !  But  if,  instead  of 
this,  we  were  to  observe  a  dustman  falling  into  the  mnd,  it  would 
hardly  attract  any  attention,  becanse  the  opposition  of  ideas  is  so 
trifling,  and  the  incongi-uity  so  slight." 

The  inequality  of  our  malignant  pleasure  in  the  two  cases  is 
the  real  cause  of  the  difference.  The  ostentatiously  dressed  trades- 
man is  humiliated  at  every  timi ;  his  rage  being  a  further  con- 
firmation of  his  suftering.  The  dustman  is  mailing  no  pretensions, 
he  has  nothing  to  lose  ;  for  him  we  are  more  read}-  to  feel  sym- 
pathy than  to  laugh. 

Irrelevance  has  an  agreeable  effect,  either  as  exposing  some 
one's  imbecility  and  weiilcness,  or  as  an  ingenious  surprise  of  the 
nature  of  wit.  Seemmg  irrelevance  is  recognized  as  one  of  ,the 
varieties  of  Epigram,  and  needs  a  stroke  of  invention  or  ingenuity 
to  produce  it.  The  irrelevance  of  a  confused  mind  may  be  made 
to  enter  into  comedy  ;  or  it  may  be  purely  insipid  and  repugnant. 

The  same  remtxrks  apply  to  the  Nonsensical  generally.  In 
itself,  this  has  no  positive  value,  but  the  contrary.  By  dexterity 
of  management  it  may  produce  any,  or  all,  of  the  effects  that  are 
now  imder  discussion.     The  criterion  of  its  aptness  is  the  resiilt. 

5.  The  conditions  of  the  Ludicrous  and  Humour  as 
an  excellence  of  composition  are  implied  in  the  fore- 
going explanations.  They  may  be  further  elucidated 
by  a  review  of  the  modes  of  failure  or  miscarriage. 

(1)  Insipidity,  either  from  want  of  importance  in  the  ob- 
ject or  from  commonplace  repetition. 

So  intense  is  the  enjoyment  of  ludicrous  depreciation, 
that  a  very  small  amount  of  either  dignity  in  the  object, 
or  originality  in  the  form,  will  afford  gratification  in  every- 
day life  ;  the  higher  demands  appertain  to  works  of  con- 
siderable literary  pretensions. 

('2)  Coarseness,  indelicacy,  filth  or  indecorum.  This  is 
an  offence  against  the  taste  of  the  age,  and  is  differently 
viewed  at  different  times. 

It  is  needless  to  I'efer  to  the  extreme  instances  of  coarse- 
ness, either  in  ancient  or  in  modem  writings.  The  taste  of 
the  present  day  may  be  measured  by  cases  that  are  close  on 
the  verge  of  admissibility. 

Coarseness  was  the  reproach  of  the  old  Dramatists. 
The  Diuiciad  of  Pope  is  disfigured  by  coarseness  no  less 
than  by  malignity.  Swift,  in  his  paper  for  preventing 
the  cliildren  of  poor  people  in  Ireland  from  being  a  burden 
to  them,  coolly  develops  a  proposal  of  cannibalism,  which 
he  supports  through  all  its  circumstantials  with  the  utmost 


FAILURES.  245 

gravity.  He  bad,  he  says,  consulted  an  American  friend, 
who  told  him  '  that  a  young  healthy  child  well  nursed  is,  at 
a  year  old,  a  most  delicious,  nourishing  and  wholesome 
food,  whether  stewed,  roasted,  baked  or  boiled  '.  Where- 
upon he  recommends  the  practice  of  rearing  babies  for  the 
market ;  setting  forth  in  minute  detail  the  economical  and 
other  advantages  and  disposing  of  objections  on  the  score 
of  diminished  population.  Nevertheless,  he  is  not  so 
violently  bent  upon  his  own  opinion  as  to  reject  any 
other  proposed  by  wise  men,  which  shall  be  equally 
innocent,  cheap,  easy  and  effectual.  He  adds,  in  conclu- 
sion, that  he  has  no  personal  interest  to  serve,  seeing  that 
his  youngest  child  is  nine  years  old,  and  his  wife  past 
child-bearing. 

It  is  possible  to  treat  all  this  as  humour,  knowing  that 
it  has  an  underlying  object  in  calling  attention  to  Irish 
misery,  and  in  satirizing  the  usual  unfeeling  ways  of  looking 
at  it.  Yet  there  is  some  difficulty  in  not  being  shocked 
and  repelled  by  the  mere  imagination  of  reducing  human 
beings  to  the  level  of  animals  for  food. 

There  is  not  the  same  apology  for  Sydney  Smith's 
cannibal  humour,  at  the  expense  of  the  Bishop  of  New 
Zealand  ;  whom  he  advised  to  receive  the  native  chiefs  with 
the  assurance  that  they  would  find  '  cold  curate  and  roasted 
missionary  on  the  sideboard'. 

Not  less  questionable  is  De  Quincey's  paper  entitled 
'  Murder  as  a  Fme  Art '.  Opinions  differ  as  to  the  legitimacy 
of  the  theme.  x\ll  the  author's  delicacy  and  invention  are 
at  work  to  invest  murder  with  the  choicest  designations  of 
a  work  of  Art.  The  only  test  to  apply  is — Does  it  foster  for 
the  time  our  malignant  gratification  in  the  horrid  details  of 
this  worst  of  crimes  ? 

(3)  Excess  of  severity.  To  offend  the  sympathies  or 
moral  sentiment  of  those  addressed  is  to  awaken  pain  and 
moral  indignation  instead  of  conferring  pleasure. 

(4)  Clumsiness  in  wording,  so  as  to  expose  the  sharp 
edge  of  malignity,  without  the  indispensable  qualifying 
additions. 

EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  following  Examples  are  intended  to  embrace  the 
whole  cu'cle  of  Qualities  above  discussed.     This  is  more 


246  VITUPERATION   EXEMPLIFIED. 

convenient  than  to  append  characteristic  examples  to  Vitu- 
peration, Kidicule,  and  Humour,  separately.  For  although 
the  three  forms  of  composition  are  distinct  in  themselves, 
the  best  illustrations  of  one  are  not  always  confined  to  that 
one. 

The  quality  of  simple  Vituperation  can  be  exemplified 
with  the  greatest  purity.  I  commence  with  a  modern 
instance — Macaulay's  article  on  Barere. 

The  circumstance  that  gives  value  to  this  article,  as 
exemplifying  vituperation,  is  the  excessive  badness  of  the 
subject.  All  the  vices  of  human  nature  that  could  co-exist 
in  the  same  individual  are  considered  to  attach  to  Barere : 
hence  the  vocabulary  of  moral  invective  is  drawn  upon  by  a 
master's  hand  to  the  limits  of  exhaustion.  The  author 
begins  with  the  following  summary  : — 

"  Our  opinion  then  is  this  :  that  Barere  approached 
nearer  than  any  person  mentioned  in  history  or  fiction, 
whether  man  or  devil,  to  the  idea  of  consummate  and  uni- 
versal depravity.  In  him  the  qualities  which  are  the  proper 
objects  of  hatred,  and  the  qualities  which  are  the  proper 
objects  of  contempt,  preserve  an  exquisite  and  absolute 
harmony.  In  almost  every  particular  sort  of  wickedness 
he  has  had  rivals.  His  sensuality  was  immoderate ;  but 
this  was  a  failing  common  to  him  with  many  great  and 
amiable  men.  There  have  been  many  men  as  cowardly  as 
he,  some  as  cruel,  a  few  as  mean,  a  few  as  impudent.  There 
may  also  have  been  as  great  liars,  though  we  never  met 
with  them  or  read  of  them.  But  when  we  put  everything 
together,  sensuality,  poltroonery,  baseness,  effrontery,  men- 
dacity, barbarity,  the  result  is  something  which  in  a  novel 
we  should  condemn  as  caricature,  and  to  which,  we  venture 
to  say,  no  parallel  can  be  found  in  history." 

The  chief  disadvantage  in  choosing  the  treatment  oi 
such  a  vile  wretch  is  the  utter  absence  of  apologists  that 
have  to  be  met  and  conciliated.  This  dispenses  with 
much  of  the  art  that  renders  vituperative  style  illustrative. 
Macaulay  in  some  degree  makes  up  for  the  defect  by 
assuming  a  certain  incredulousness  on  our  part  to  admit 
the  existence  of  such  a  monster.  He  begins  by  expressing 
his  own  willingness  and  anxiety  to  find  in  the  memoirs  that 
he  reviews  something  to  palliate  the  worst  aspersions  on  the 
character  of  Barere.  Allowance  is  also  made  for  an  un- 
fortunate badness  of  temperament.     Moreover,  the  standard 


MACAULAy's    '  BARGEE  '.  247 

of  moral  judgment  is  purposely  made  low,  the  better  to 
show  how  he  fell  beneath  it,  and  distanced  all  the  vices  of 
the  most  infamous  actors  in  the  French  Eevolution. 

"  Fouche  seems  honest  ;  Billaud  seems  humane  ;  Hebert 
seems  to  rise  into  dignity."  "  He  had  many  associates  in 
guilt ;  but  he  distinguished  himself  from  them  all  by  the 
Bacchanalian  exultation  which  he  seemed  to  feel  in  the  work 
of  death.  He  was  drunk  with  innocent  and  noble  blood, 
laughed  and  shouted  as  he  butchered,  and  howled  strange 
songs,  and  reeled  in  strange  dances  amidst  the  carnage." 
"  It  is  not  easy  to  settle  the  order  of  precedence  among  his 
vices,  but  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  his  baseness  was, 
on  the  whole,  a  rarer  and  more  marvellous  thing  than  his 
cruelty.'' 

The  author  supports  his  view  by  an  extensive  recital  of 
Barere's  doings  in  the  Eevolution.  In  this  part  of  the  case, 
the  usual  device  of  partisan  vituperation  is  to  colour,  select 
and  suppress  circumstances,  with  a  view  to  the  effect.  All 
this  was  needless,  in  Macaulay's  judgment ;  and  the  only 
art  that  belongs  to  his  treatment  is  to  let  the  facts  speak 
for  themselves,  and  to  let  the  readers  draw  their  own  con- 
clusions and  boil  up  with  indignation  of  their  own  accord. 
Of  course,  an  author  like  Macaulay  can  also  set  forth  the 
conclusion  from  the  facts  in  impressive  terms ;  and  the 
reader,  being  sufficiently  worked  up,  is  pleased  to  have 
his  views  of  the  case  so  forcibly  put.  The  error  would  lie 
in  presuming  too  much  upon  the  reader's  acquiescence  in 
unqualified  vituperation.  Suggestiveness  is  preferable  to 
w^ordy  abuse. 

Macaulay  is  a  master  of  all  the  Figures  that  lend  them- 
selves to  effective  denunciation — Irony,  Innuendo,  Epigram, 
as  well  as  damaging  Similitudes.  The  operation  of  one  or 
more  of  these,  in  the  form  called  Sarcasm,  is  seen  in  the 
account  of  Barere's  Christianity. 

"  We  had,  we  own,  indulged  a  hope  that  Barere  was  an 
atheist.  We  now  learn,  however,  that  he  was  at  no  time 
even  a  sceptic,  that  he  adhered  to  his  faith  through  the 
whole  Eevolution,  and  that  he  has  left  several  manuscript 
works  on  divinity.  One  of  these  is  a  pious  treatise,  en- 
titled '  Of  Christianity,  and  of  its  Influence  '.  Another 
consists  of  meditations  on  the  Psalms,  which  will  doubt- 
less greatly  console  and  edify  the  Church.  This  makes 
the  character  complete." 


248  VITUPERATION    EXEMPLIFIED. 

The  richness  of  vituperative  phraseology,  the  profusion 
of  the  ihustrative  compai-isons,  the  invention  of  turns  of 
thought  to  heighten  the  effect,  are  Macaulay's  own,  and  can- 
not be  imitated,  although  they  may  be  appropriated  and 
reproduced.  Yet  withal,  there  are  numerous  devices  of  art 
that  are  strictly  imitable  ;  and  these  make  the  rhetorical 
lesson  of  the  article. 

Dryden's  *  Achitophel '  (Shaftesbury)  is  a  specimen  of 
invective,  abounding  in  strength  of  language,  in  profusion  of 
damaging  circumstances,  and  in  well  compacted  verse ;  but 
there  is  scarcely  a  redeeming  touch.  An  ordinary  reader 
can  hardly  enjoy  the  malignity  of  the  picture  without  self- 
reproach.  As  a  slight  indication  to  show  what  might  have 
been  a  softening  treatment,  w'e  may  refer  to  the  famous 
line — ■ 

Great  wits  are  sure  to  madness  near  allied. 

Had  concessions  of  positive  merit,  moral  as  well  as 
intellectual,  been  freely  made,  the  picture  would  have  been 
more  pleasing  even  as  a  feast  of  malignity. 

The  satire  on  Shadwell  is  equally  vituperative,  but  wnth 
some  pretence  to  art.  It  is  introduced  by  the  character  of 
MacFleckuoe,  and  is  conducted  in  a  more  properly  humo- 
rous vein. 

All  human  things  are  subject  to  decay, 
And  when  Fate  summons,  monarchs  must  obey. 
Tliis  Flecknoe  found,  who,  like  Augustus,  young 
Was  called  to  empire  and  had  governed  long, 
In  prose  and  verse  was  owTied  without  dispute 
Through  all  the  realms  of  Nonsense  absolute. 

The  ironical  bombast  of  the  picture  is  severe  enough,  but 
does  not  grate  on  our  feelings  like  a  free  employment  of  the 
vocabulary  of  abuse. 

The  fiction  is  continued  by  supposing  MacFlecknoe  to  be 
on  the  look-out  for  a  worthy  successor.  This  he  finds  in 
Shadwell : — 

Shadwell  alone  my  perfect  image  bears, 

Mature  in  dulness  from  his  tender  years  ; 

Shadwell  alone  of  all  my  sons  is  lie 

Who  stands  confirmed  in  full  stupidity. 

The  rest  to  some  faint  meaning  make  pretence, 

But  Shadwell  never  deviates  into  sense. 

And  so  on  in  a  similar  strain,  which  is  very  little  reinoved 
from  coarse  invective. 


pope's    '  DUNCIAD  '.  249 

The  most  vituperative  work  of  Pope  is  the  Dimciad ; 
but  the  most  elevated  in  its  style  and  power  is  the  Ra'pe 
of  the  Lock.  A  study  of  the  latter  would  show  whether  he 
has  any  imitable  arts  of  style,  especially  in  the  contribution 
to  Humour.  The  supposition,  that  the  actual  subject  may 
herself  have  looked  upon  the  poem  as  a  grand  compliment, 
is  in  its  favour.  The  same  could  not  be  said  of  the  Dunciad; 
none  of  the  persons  there  felt  honom'ed  by  the  notoriety 
given  to  them. 

The  limitations  of  Humour  are  observed  in  the  windings 
of  the  story  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock :  the  heroine  is  never 
accused  of  serious  moral  flaws  ;  only  of  feminine  vanities, 
and  little  arts,  compatible  with  a  good  name,  and  even 
inspiring  a  certain  pride.  The  moments  of  weakness  are 
atoned  for  by  the  splendour  of  the  compliment  and  the 
delicacy  of  the  innuendo.  The  gorgeous  poetry  adorns 
everything ;  the  burlesque  is  splendid.  The  introduction 
of  creations  of  fancy  is  made  humorous  by  the  liberties 
taken  with  supernatural  dignities. 

Even  a  moral  is  introduced,  but  so  slight  and  passing 
that  it  does  not  detract  from  the  enjoyment  of  the  satire ; 
the  moralizing  beauty  being  scouted,  although  the  lesson  is 
read  all  the  same. 

The  poet  never  indulges  in  brutal  malignity  ;  which  only 
shows  the  restraining  power  of  his  private  friendship.  Had 
the  heroine  been  indifferent  to  him  or  inimical,  his  other 
writings  show  what  would  have  been  her  fate  ;  and  the 
world  would  have  missed  the  Humour,  and  had  a  treat  of 
pure  vituperation  instead. 

Take  now  the  Addison  passage.  The  denunciation  is 
fearful,  although  minced.  To  say  that  he  did  not  sneer 
himself,  but  set  on  others  to  do  it,  is  about  the  heaviest 
charge  that  could  be  brought  against  a  man ;  and  should 
have  been  well  sustained  by  proof,  or  else  redeemed  in  some 
way,  which  it  is  not.  The  weeping  line  at  the  end  is  with- 
out relevance  or  force  ;  a  mere  affectation  of  sorrow,  which, 
had  it  been  real,  would  have  mitigated  the  ferocity  of  the 
invective. 

As  regards  the  Duncicul,  the  vituperation  is  pure  and 
simple,  supported  by  the  genius  of  style,  and  made  accept- 
able by  that  means  alone.  There  is  none  of  the  apologetic 
approaches  of  Macaulay's  'Barere'.  It  is  abuse  carried  to 
incredible  extravagance,  and  sullied  by  vulgarities  and  filth, 
12 


250  VITUPERATION   EXEMPLIFIED. 

allowable  only  in  the   intensest   partisanship.      The  sheer 
force  of  the  style  is  incommunicable. 

The  vituperative  eloquence  of  Chatham  is  magnificent 
in  language ;  while  the  invective  is  redeemed  by  the  gi'eat- 
ness  of  the  occasions.  His  famous  denunciation  of  the 
employment  of  Indians  against  the  revolted  Americans, 
thrills  every  fibre  of  righteous  indignation ;  so  thoroughly 
does  our  sense  of  its  justice  accompany  our  abhorrence.  It 
was  a  case  for  plain  speaking,  and  dispensed  with  the 
softening  arts  that  are  usually  needed  to  procure  acceptance 
to  severe  denunciation.  The  most  powerful  language-  and 
the  most  impressive  figures  concur  to  make  a  passage  with- 
out a  rival  in  the  annals  of  oratory. 

The  Letters  of  Junius  is  a  work  celebrated  in  our  Litera- 
ture as  an  example  of  invective.  The  unredeemed  malignity 
did  not  deprive  those  letters  of  the  power  to  sting  their 
victims,  nor  does  it  detract  from  their  remarkable  literary 
merits.  The  choice  of  strong  language,  without  coarseness  ; 
the  elaborate  balance  and  compactness  of  the  sentences  ;  the 
occasional  splendour  of  the  similes ;  the  working  out  of  all 
the  circumstances  that  could  intensify  detraction, — enable 
us  to  tolerate  the  author's  venomous  intentions,  but  without 
securing  our  sympathy  or  concurrence.  There  is  no  attempt 
to  veil  the  abuse,  no  plausible  modes  of  approach.  The 
handling  of  the  Duke  of  Grafton's  descent  from  Charles  II. 
is  a  sample  of  the  lengths  that  the  author  can  go  to  find 
materials  for  denunciation.  The  attack  on  the  Duke  of 
Bedford  is  a  pitiless  onslaught  of  the  bitterest  reproaches 
that  could  be  conveyed  in  language. 

We  may  store  up  in  the  memory  something  of  this 
wealth  of  opprobrious  denunciation.  What  we  fail  to  dis- 
cover is  something  in  the  management,  apart  from  the 
genius,  that  would  improve  ourselves  in  the  vituperative  art. 

The  Figures  that  enter  into  sarcasm  are  exemplified  to 
perfection.  The  following  strain  of  irony  is  addressed  to 
the  Duke  of  Bedford  : — 

"  My  lord,  you  are  so  little  accustomed  to  receive  any 
marks  of  respect  or  esteem  from  the  public,  that  if  in  the 
following  Lines  a  compliment  or  expression  of  applause 
should  escape  me,  I  fear  you  would  consider  it  as  a  mockery 
of  your  established  character,  and  perhaps  an  insult  to  your 


'  LETTERS    OF   JUNIUS.'  251 

understanding.  You  have  nice  feelings,  my  lord,  if  we  may 
judge  from  your  resentments.  Cautious,  therefore,  of  giving 
olfence  where  you  have  so  little  deserved  it,  I  shall  leave 
the  illustration  of  your  virtues  to  other  hands.  Your  friends 
have  a  privilege  to  play  upon  the  easiness  of  your  temper,  or 
probably  they  are  belter  acquainted  with  your  good  qualities 
than  I  am.  You  have  done  good  by  stealth.  The  rest  is 
upon  record.  You  have  still  left  ample  room  for  speculation 
when  panegyric  is  exhausted.'' 

If  Junius  could  have  exercised  a  greater  command  of  his 
feelings,  he  might  have  provided  a  still  better  feast  of  malig- 
nity. This  he  could  have  done  by  well-contrived  admissions, 
palliations  and  excuses ;  and  by  keeping  within  the  ordinary 
limits  of  human  nature  in  his  attributing  of  vices.  In  that 
case,  we  might  have  had  no  compunctions  in  going  along  with 
him ;  our  pleasure  of  malignity  would  have  been  unalloyed. 

Among  the  many  grandeurs  of  the  style  of  Eurke  must 
be  included  some  of  our  finest  examples  of  invective.  Yet 
we  cannot  describe  it  as  conducted  secundum  artem  ;  it  is  the 
fruit  of  his  affluence  of  style  and  intensity  of  feeling.  His 
attack  on  the  Duke  of  Bedford  is  also  a  masterly  employ- 
ment of  the  Figurative  arts ;  but  there  is  no  redeeming 
delicacy  in  the  handling,  such  as  to  soften  the  blows  and 
obtain  a  more  universal  and  cordial  detestation  of  his  victim. 

The  foregoing  examples  have  been  exclusively  devoted  to  ■ 
vituperation  or  invective  :  those  that  follow  will  be  devoted 
mainly  to  the  Ludicrous,  in  its  two  extremes  of  Eidicule  and 
Humour. 

The  outgoings  of  malignant  enjoyment  in  all  its  forms — 
vituperation,  ridicule,  and  humour — are  provided  with  un- 
surpassed profusion  by  the  prince  of  Greek  comedians. 
If  there  were  any  doubt  as  to  the  necessary  connexion  of 
malignancy  with  comedy  and  the  ridiculous,  the  proof  from 
his  writings  would  be  superabundant.  It  can  also  be 
seen  how  a  great  poetic  genius,  by  an  admixture  of  serious 
and  lofty  composition,  can  reconcile  us  to  taking  delight  in 
feasts  of  mockery. 

Aristophanes  is  too  devilish  for  the  finest  delicacies 
of  humour.  He  creates  laughter,  but  with  a  total  sacrifice 
of  his  victims ;  and  to  that  extent  fails  in  the  grandest  feat 


252  HUMOUR   EXEMPLIFIED. 

of  the  humourist,  which  is  to  husband  the  pleasures  of  mahg- 
nity.  Only  a  mind  that  is  on  the  whole  kindly  disposed 
(like  our  own  Shakespeare),  is  competent  to  the  happy  re- 
conciliation. 

The  caricatures  of  the  gods  are,  to  us,  the  nearest 
approach  to  humour  in  Aristophanes.  It  was  his  defect  as 
a  poet  to  be  a  strong  partisan.  His  style  is  vituperative 
quite  as  much  in  the  oratorical  as  in  the  poetic  significa- 
tion ;  it  kills  the  enjoyment  to  all  that  are  in  love  with 
truth,  geniality,  and  human  affection. 

We  are  provided  with  gorgeous  displays  of  the  burlesque 
on  the  great  scale,  as  in  the  Parabasis  of  the  '  Birds  '. 
There  could  not  be  a  better  example  of  the  genius  of  lan- 
guage converted  to  this  use.  It  is  also  a  study  of  Humour, 
as  showing  the  subtle  and  yet  adorned  malignity  underljdng 
the  whole  passage.  There  is  the  meeting  of  the  Sublime 
and  the  Eidiculous :  the  imagination  gratified  by  serious 
grandeur,  and  then  plunged  into  the  enjoyment  of  bufibonery. 

Ye  Children  of  Man !  whose  life  is  a  span, 

Protracted  with  sorrow  from  day  to  day, 

Naked  and  featherless,  feeble  and  querulous, 

Sickly  calamitous  creatures  of  clay ! 

Attend  to  the  words  of  the  Sovereign  Birds 

(Immortal,  illustrious,  lords  of  the  air). 

Who  survey  from  on  high,  with  a  merciful  eye, 

Your  struggles  of  misery,  labour,  and  care. 

Whence  you  may  learn  and  clearlj'  discern 

Such  truths  as  attract  your  inquisitive  turn  ; 

Which  is  busied  of  late  with  a  mighty  debate, 

A  profound  speculation  about  the  creation, 

And  organical  life,  and  chaotical  strife. 

With  various  notions  of  heavenly  motions. 

And  rivers  and  oceans,  and  valleys  and  mountains. 

And  sources  of  fountains,  and  meteors  on  high, 

And  stars  in  the  sky.  .   .  .  We  propose  by-and-by 

(If  you'll  listen  and  hear),  to  make  it  all  clear. 

And  Prodicus  henceforth  shall  pass  for  a  drmce. 

When  his  doubts  are  cxplain'd  and  expounded  at  once. 

Then  comes  a  splendid  caricature  of  creation  according 
to  Greek  mythology: — 

Before  the  creation  of  ^ther  and  Light, 
Chaos  and  Night  together  were  j^light. 
In  the  dungeon  of  Erebus  fouliy  bedight. 
Nor  Ocean,  or  Air,  or  substance  was  there, 
Or  solid  or  rare,  or  figure  or  form. 
But  horrible  Tartarus  ruled  in  the  storm. 


ARISTOPHANES. 


253 


At  length,  in  the  dreary  chaotical  closet 
Of  Erebus  old,  was  a  privy  deposit, 
By  Night  the  primajval  in  secrecy  laid — 
A  mystical  egg,  that  in  silence  and  shade 
Was  brooded  and  hatch'd,  till  time  came  about, 
And  Love,  the  delightful,  in  glory  flew  out, 
In  rapture  and  light,  exulting  and  bright, 
Sparkling  and  florid,  with  stars  in  his  forehead, 
His  forehead  and  hair,  and  a  flutter  and  flare, 
As  he  rose  in  the  air,  triumphantly  furnish'd 
To  range  his  dominions  on  glittering  pinions, 
All  golden  and  azure,  and  blooming  and  burnish'd. 

One  step  farther  and  the  origin  of  the  illustrious  Birds  is 
complete : — 

He  soon,  in  the  murky  Tartarean  recesses. 
With  a  hurricane's  might,  in  his  fiery  caresses 
Impregnated  Chaos  ;  and  hastily  snatch'd 
To  being  and  life,  begotten  and  hatch'd. 
The  primitive  Birds  :  but  the  Deities  all, 
The  celestial  Lights,  the  terrestrial  Ball, 
Were  later  of  birth,  with  the  dwellers  on  earth 
More  tamely  combined,  of  a  temperate  kind  ; 
When  chaotical  mixture  approached  to  a  fixture. 

For  the  comic  resources  of  Aristophanes  we  may  quote 
from  the  'Frogs,'  where  he  brings  forward  ^schylus  and 
Euripides,  engaged  in  a  contest  for  the  tragic  throne  in  the 
Shades  ;  the  god  Bacchus  (the  patron  of  the  Drama)  being 
umpire.  The  form  of  the  dialogue  is  turned  to  account  for 
making  every  one  of  the  three  more  ridiculous  than  another. 
The  action  of  the  play  itself,  in  the  bringing  of  Bacchus  inio 
the  Shades,  accompanied  with  a  humorous  slave,  supplies 
the  prototype  of  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho. 

Bacchus.  Come,  now,  begin— dispute  away ;  but  first  I  give  you  notice 
That  every  phrase  in  your  discourse  must  be  refined,  avoiding 
Vulgar  absurd  comparisons,  and  awkward  silly  jokings. 

Euripides.    At  the  first  outset  I  forbear  to  state  my  own  pretensions  : 
Hereafter  I  shall  mention  them,  when  his  have  been  refuted  ; 
After  I  shall  have  fairly  shewn  how  he  befooled  and  cheated 
The  rustic  audience  that  he  found,  which  Phrynicus  bequeathed  him  : 
He  planted  first  upon  the  stage  a  figure  veiled  and  muffled— 
An  Achilles,  or  a  Niobe,  that  never  shewed  their  faces  ; 
But  kept  a  tragic  attitude,  without  a  word  to  utter. 

Bac.   No  more  they  did ;  'tis  very  true. 

Eu.   In  the  meanwhile  the  chorus 
Strung  on  ten  strophes  right-on-end  ;  but  they  remained  in  silence. 

Bac.    I  liked  that  silence  well  enough :  as  well  perhaps  or  better 
Than  those  now  talking  characters. 

Eu.    That'i  from  your  want  of  judgment, 
Believe  me. 


254  HUMOUR    EXEMPLIFIED. 

Bac.   Why,  perhaps  it  is — hut  what  was  his  intention  ? 

Eu.    Why,  mere  conceit  and  insolence  ;  to  keep  the  people  waiting 
Till  Niobe  should  deign  to  speak — to  drive  his  drama  forward. 

Bac.   Oh,  what  a  rascal ! — Now  I  see  the  tricks  he  used  to  play 
me. 

\_To  ^schylus,  who  is  shoioing  signs  of  indignation  by  various  contor- 
tions.^ 
What  makes  you  writhe  and  wince  about  ? 

Eu.    Because  he  feels  my  censures. 
Then  ha\ing  dragged  and  drawled  along,  half-way  to  the  conclusion, 
He  foisted  in  a  dozen  words  of  noisy,  boisterous  accent. 
With  lofty  plumes,  and  shaggy  brows,  mere  bugbears  of  the  language, 
That  no  man  ever  heard  before. 

^s.    Alas  !  alas  I 

Bac.    \_To  uEschyhis]  Have  done  there. 

Eic.    He  never  used  a  simple  word. 

Bttc.    [  To  ^schylus]  Don't  grind  your  teeth  so  strangely. 

Eu.   But  bulwarks,  and  samandors,  and  hippogrilis,  and  gorgons, 
"On  burnished  shields  embossed  in  brass" — bloody  remorseless  phrases 
Which  nobody  could  understand. 

Bac.    Weil,  I  confess,  for  my  part, 
I  used  to  keep  awake  at  night  with  guesses  and  conjectures 
To  think  what  kind  of  foreign  bird  he  meant  by  griffin  horses. 

^s.    A  figure  on  the  heads  of  ships  ;  you  goose,  you  must  have  seen 
them. 

BcK.  Well,  from  the  likeness,  I  declare  I  took  it  for  Eruxis. 

Eu.    So  figures  on  the  heads  of  ships  are  fit  for  tragic  diction ! 

^s.   Well,  then,  thou  paltry  wretch,  explain — what  were  your  own 
devices  ? 

The  ludicrous  degradation  of  all  the  three  is  perfect. 
Making  the  combatants  irritate  and  aggravate  one  another, 
while  the  umpire  gravely  admonishes  both,  and  yet  is  on 
the  point  of  losing  his  own  temper, — was  to  provide  a  rare 
feast  to  the  Athenian  audience,  which  regarded  all  the 
three  with  too  little  reverence  to  exempt  them  from 
ridicule,  and  yet  with  sufficient  importance  to  enjoy  their 
comic  handling. 

Aristophanes  is  unsurpassable  in  the  creation  of  degrad- 
ing contiguities  and  surroundings.  He  brings  his  characters 
perpetually  into  contact  with  all  that  is  mean,  grovelling 
and  filthy  ;  sparing  neither  gods,  men  nor  institutions.  He 
fails  only  in  that  highest  stretch  of  humour — the  power  to 
combine  the  maximum  of  enjoyment  with  the  minimum  of 
malignity. 

Tf  ever  any  man  deserved  to  be  called  a  Humourist,  it 
is  Chaucer.  His  genius  is  so  exactly  poised  as  to  give  us 
feasts  of  malignant  enjoyment  without   the   drawback   of 


CHAUCER.  255 

offended  sympathy.  At  all  events  he  comes  near  to  this 
ideal.  He  was  at  times  too  heart-rending,  and  at  other 
times  too  coarse  ;  yet  he  supplies  examples  of  the  most 
delicate  adjustment  of  opposing  conditions. 

The  opening  passage  of  '  The  Wyf  of  Bathes  Tale  '  is  one 
of  the  most  consummate  examples  of  veiled  vituperation. 
The  beautiful  poetry  of  the  commencing  lines  is  a  charming 
deception  as  to  the  poet's  ultimate  design.  He  goes  back  to 
the  romantic  age  of  King  Arthur,  when — 

The  elf-queen,  with  hir  joly  compaigiiye, 
Daunced  ful  oft  ia  many  a  grene  mede. 

This  soon  turns  to  satire  : — 

But  now  can  no  man  see  noon  elves  mo. 

For  now  the  grete  charite  and  prayeres 

Of  lymytours  and  other  holy  freres, 

That  sechen  every  lond  and  every  streem, 

As  thik  as  metis  in  the  sonne  beem, 

Blessynge  halles,  chambres,  kichenes,  and  boures, 

Citees  and  burghes,  castels  hihe  and  toures, 

Thropes  and  bernes,  shepenes  and  dayeries, 

That  maMth  that  ther  ben  no  Fayeries. 

He  follows  up  with  further  particulars  by  way  of 
clenching  the  reason  : — 

For  ther  as  wont  to  walken  was  an  elf, 

Ther  walkith  noon  but  the  lymytour  himself 

In  undermeles  and  in  morwenynges. 

And  saith  his  matyns  and  his  holy  thinges 

As  he  goth  in  his  lymytatioun. 

Wommen  may  now  go  saufly  up  and  doun. 

The  proper  epithets  to  apply  here  are — complex,  double- 
dyed  irony  and  innuendo,  engrained  in  a  dress  of  trans- 
parent simplicity, — the  imitation  -  of  an  honest,  sincere, 
plain-spoken  tale.  The  onslaught  on  the  clergy  is  more 
tremendous  than  any  open  vituperation,  and  shows  a  serious 
purpose  underneath.  Humour,  pure  and  simple,  is  not  the 
name  for  the  piece. 

There  is  abundance  of  proper  humour  in  the  Canterhury 
Tales.  The  fine  characters,  as  outlined  in  the  Prologue,  are, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Knight,  tinged  with  some  defect 
or  weakness,  to  laugh  at ;  and  the  grossest  and  worst  have 
some  redeeming  traits,  enough  to  make  them  interesting. 

Chaucer's  treatment  of  Women  takes  the  form  of  compli- 
ment,   partly   serious   and   partly  ironical,    with   purposed 


256  HUMOUR   EXEMPLIFIED. 

depreciation.  His  picture  of  the  inimitable  Griselda  pro- 
bably insinuates  what  he  would  like  women  to  aim  at 
being;  by  no  means  an  unselfish  wish  on  the  part  of  a 
man.  He  has  no  doubt  a  genuine  feeling  for  the  sex,  shown 
in  direct  forms,  as  in  his  sympathy  with  the  historic  victims 
of  men's  treachery.  On  the  other  hand,  the  merchant's 
'  Opinion  of  Wives '  attains  a  pitch  of  ironical  depreciation 
such  as,  but  for  the  exquisite  refinement  of  the  dress,  would 
rank  with  the  harshest  satire. 

The  Humour  of  Shakespeare  has  the  richness  of  his 
genius,  and  follows  its  peculiarities.  He  did  not  lay  him- 
self out  for  pure  Comedy,  like  Aristophanes  ;  he  was  more 
nearly  allied  to  the  great  tragedians  of  the  classical  world. 
He  had  not  malignity  enough  to  be  a  satirist,  and  he  kept 
himself  entirely  aloof  from  party.  His  forte  lay  in  setting 
forth  passion  in  its  tragical  intensity.  Whether  from  being 
conscious  of  the  extravagance  of  his  lofty  flights,  or  from 
being  affected  by  the  business  point  of  view  of  a  theatri- 
cal manager,  he  relieved  the  strain  of  hyperbole  by  comic 
descents.  His  invention  for  this  purpose  principally  took 
the  form  of  providing  fools,  and  equipping  them  for  the  part 
they  had  to  serve.  Some  of  them  are  fools  out  and  out, 
like  Justice  Shallow,  Dogberry,  Verges,  Costard,  Gobbo, 
Aquecheek,  Bottom.  Others  are  half-wise,  making  foolish- 
ness a  stalking  horse  for  wit,  as  Touchstone  and  the  grave- 
digger  in  '  Hamlet '.  The  Fool  in  '  Lear,'  and  Feste  in 
'  Twelfth  Night,'  are  of  the  type  of  the  professional  court 
fool,  who  could  take  the  liberty  of  satirical  criticism  with 
his  masters.  The  nurse  in  '  Eomeo '  is  merely  silly  in 
particular  points.  It  is  necessary  in  all  cases  to  make  them 
so  far  interesting,  that  we  can  care  to  follow  their  vagaries, 
and  laugh  at  the  degi-adation  and  discomfiture  that  they 
bring  either  upon  themselves  or  upon  more  important  per- 
sonages. We  need  scarcely  add  that  Shakespeare's  gift  of 
language,  so  freely  placed  at  their  disposal,  is  one  main 
secret  of  their  success  as  laughter-causing  agents. 

What  then  of  Falstaff  ? 

1.  Critics  seem  agreed  on  the  fact  that  he  defies  the  laws 
and  decencies  of  life  ;  and  this  most  grossly.  He  is  a  high- 
wayman, a  drunkard,  a  swindler,  a  whoremonger — all  which 
we  must  needs  abhor.  If  we  have  any  pleasure  connected 
with  them,  it  is  the  pleasure  of  reprobation,  or  righteous 


Shakespeare's  falstaff.  257 

indignation,  wbicli  enables  us  to  tolerate  criminals  in  fiction 
and  story. 

2.  It  is  further  apparent  that  Falstaff  is  not  a  fool,  nor 
a  hypocrite ;  he  is,  in  fact,  quite  the  opposite  of  both. 
He  has  ingenuity  and  resource,  an  endless  flow  of  quips  and 
retorts  against  everybody.  His  verbal  endowments  are  not, 
as  in  the  clownish  characters,  bestowed  so  as  to  make  his 
incoherence  and  folly  more  original  and  striking. 

3.  His  unabashed  effrontery,  combined  with  his  power  of 
language,  is  counted  by  critics  the  secret  of  his  fascination. 
His  wickedness  triumphs  on  all  occasions :  we  are  withheld 
from  pitying  the  victims,  and  rather  take  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  their  undoing ;  they  being  themselves,  for  the 
most  part,  not  very  worthy  characters.  Further,  we  are 
gratified  to  see  him  down  at  times,  and  then  springing  up 
again  by  the  sheer  audacity  of  his  inventions. 

4.  Much  of  the  pleasure  that  such  a  character  gives  is 
very  coarse  and  gross.  His  victims  deserve  our  sympathy, 
on  some  occasions  at  least,  as  in  the  case  of  his  highway 
robbery:  a  robber  cannot  be  interesting,  unless  his  prey 
is  made  out  to  be  worthless  and  otherwise  deserving  of  his 
fate.  The  low  companions  that  he  mixes  with  are  purposely 
kept  low,  that  they  may  be  kicked  by  him. 

5.  There  is  little  attempt  to  give  him  redeeming  traits  of 
affection  and  generosity.  He  is  made  to  have  a  kind  of 
attachment  to  the  prince,  as  when  he  uses  the  remarkable 
illustration  of  male  friendship ;  but,  while  Henry  took 
amusement  with  him,  there  was  scarcely  any  apparent  love 
between  them  ;  and  the  pretence  of  emotion  might  have 
been  mere  servility. 

He  does  good  to  nobody ;  his  love  is  sensual  and  selfish, 
and  does  not  soften  his  wicked  traits  :  it  is  his  wit  and 
unabashed  effrontery  together  that  cover  and  counter- 
balance his  vices. 

6.  The  occasion  is  taken  to  picture  graphically  a  circle  of 
low  life  in  that  day.  The  dramatic  force  of  the  personation 
of  Mrs.  Quickly  and  the  others  is  very  great,  and  speaks  for 
itself.  People  like  to  get  a  peep  into  the  haunts  of  wicked- 
ness, if  only  to  see  how  they  are  conducted  :  Shakespeare  is 
here  very  minute  and  communicative,  like  a  Dutch  realistic 
artist.  He  bodies  the  characters  forth  with  finely  selected 
touches ;  his  language  intensifies,  but  does  not  misre- 
present, them. 


258  HUMOUE   EXEMPLIFIED. 

The  question  now  is — "What,  if  any,  are  the  defects  of 
the  personation  as  a  work  of  art  ?  What  things  may  we 
reasonably  object  to  as  violating  critical  laws  ? 

(1)  The  whole  delineation  labours  under  a  superfluity 
of  grossness  and  coarseness,  unless  for  the  very  lowest 
tastes.  A  great  deal  of  the  plain  speaking  should  have 
been  removed  a  little  distance  by  fine  innuendoes.  The 
coarseness  of  the  women  might  have  been  covered  over, 
without  loss  to  the  dramatic  personation. 

(2)  Falstaff  ought  to  have  had  occasional  strokes  of 
smart  retribution  for  his  wicked  conduct.  His  highway 
attempts  should  have  been  baffled  and  should  have  recoiled 
on  himself ;  he  being  allowed  to  lie  as  much  as  he  pleased 
to  cover  his  defeat.  Sometliing  of  this  actually  happened 
in  the  Gadshill  incident. 

(3)  His  profusion  of  language  derived  from  the  wealth  of 
the  author's  creative  genius  could,  of  course,  have  been  more 
select  and  refined  :  it  is  evidently  a  rapid  and  promiscuous 
outpouring  from  his  unpremeditated  stores. 

(4)  While  Falstaff  was  a  co%Yard  in  real  danger,  his  ad- 
mirers very  properly  indicate  the  courage  of  his  brazen-faced 
lies,  denials  and  evasions.  This  has  a  certain  attraction  for 
us  ;  it  is  one  of  the  things  that  qualify  the  painful  dislike  that 
we  might  otherwise  feel  for  his  enormities.  Of  course,  the 
pleasure  lies  in  the  discomfiture  of  his  accusers,  whom  we 
know  to  be  in  the  right,  but  are  willing  to  see  baulked  for 
a  while  ;  just  as  we  enjoy  the  ingenuity  of  a  criminal  in 
eluding  the  search  of  the  police. 

(5)  This  pleasure,  however,  should  be  accompanied 
with  a  mild  abhorrence  of  his  misdeeds  ;  and,  therefore, 
these  need  to  be  so  stated  and  glozed  over  as  not  to  excite 
our  strongest  pitch  of  abhorrence.  There  is  alw^ays  a  point 
whei-e  the  delight  in  malignity,  and  the  sympathy  with 
mischief,  pass  into  the  pain  of  abhorrence  and  disgust. 
The  management  of  this  transition  is  the  great  art  in 
making  criminals  interesting. 

The  genius  of  Eabelais  supplies  extravagant  vituperation 
and  ridicule  in  the  wildest  profusion ;  a  moral  purpose 
underlying.  Coarse  and  brutal  fun  runs  riot.  He  is  more 
a  genius  than  an  artist,  and  does  not  exemplify  that  delicate 
reconcihation  of  opposites  needed  for  humour ;  while  suffi- 
ciently confirming  the  general  doctrine  that  connects  the 


RABELAIS.  259 

pleasures  of  laughter  with  some  form  of  malignity.  The 
delight  in  chuckling  over  a  coward  is  luxuriously  provided 
by  the  author's  splendid  invention  of  circumstances  in  the 
picture  of  a  storm  at  sea. 

"  Pantagruel  having  first  implored  the  aid  of  the  Great 
God  his  Preserver,  and  made  public  prayer  in  fervent  de- 
votion, by  the  advice  of  the  pilot  held  firmly  to  the  mast. 
Friar  John  was  stripped  to  the  shirt  to  help  the  sailors  ;  so 
also  were  Epistemon,  Ponocrates,  and  the  rest.  Panurge 
alone  sat  on  the  deck  weeping  and  lamenting.  Friar  John, 
seeing  him,  cried  out,  'By  the  Lord!  Panurge  the  calf; 
Panurge  the  blubberer;  Panurge  the  coward.  You  would 
do  much  better  to  help  us  here  than  to  sit  there  crying  like 
a  cow  ! '  '  Be,  be,  be,  bous,  bous,  bous!  '  replied  Panurge. 
'  Friar  John,  my  friend,  my  good  father,  I  drown — my  friend, 
I  drown.  It  is  all  over  with  me,  my  spixitual  father,  my 
friend — it  is  all  over.  The  water  has  got  into  my  shoes  by 
way  of  my  collar.  Bous,  bous,  bous,  paisch,  hu,  hu,  hu ! 
I  drown,  Bebe  bous,  bous,  bobous,  bobous,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho  ! 
Zalas  !  Zalas  !  now  I  am  like  a  forked  tree,  with  my  heels 
up  and  my  head  down.  Would  to  God  that  I  were  now  in 
the  ark  of  those  blessed  fathers  whom  we  met  this  morning, 
so  devout,  so  fat,  so  joyous,  and  so  full  of  grace.  Holos,  holos, 
holos,  zalas,  zalas  !  this  wave  of  all  the  devils  {mea  culpa 
Beus) — I  mean  this  wave  of  the  Lord,  will  overwhelm  our 
ship.  Zalas  !  Friar  John,  confession.  Here  I  am  on  my 
knees.  Conjiteor,  your  sacred  benediction.'  '  Thousand 
devils  ! '  cried  Friar  John.  *  Do  not  let  us  swear,'  said 
Panurge.     'To-morrow  as  much  as  you  please.'" 

The  conclusion,  as  rendered  by  Leigh  Hunt,  is  still  more 
comically  conceived.  The  timidity  of  Panurge  is  only 
equalled  by  his  hypocrisy  and  his  meanness  : — 

"I  sink;  I  die,  my  friends.  I  die  in  charity  with  all  the  world. 
Farewell.  Bous,  bous,  bousoivwanwmis.  St.  Michael !  St.  Nicholas  ! 
now  or  never.  Deliver  me  from  this  danger,  and  I  here  make  a  solemn 
vow  to  build  you  a  fine  large  little  chapel  or  two  between  Conde  and 
Monsoreau,  where  neither  cow  nor  calf  shall  feed.  Oh,  oh  !  pailfuls 
are  getting  down  my  throat — bous,  bous.  How  devilish  bitter  and  salt  it 
is !  Oh,  you  smn'd  just  now.  Friar  John,  you  did  indeed ;  you  sinn'd 
when  you  swore  ;  think  of  that,  my  former  crony !  former,  I  say,  be- 
cause it's  all  over  with  us ;  with  you  as  well  as  with  me.  Oh,  I  sink,  I 
sink.  Oh  to  be  but  once  again  on  dry  ground  ;  never  mind  how  or  in 
what  condition;  oti,,  if  I  was  but  on  firm  land,  with  somebody  kicking 
me. " 


260  HUMOUR  EXEMPLIFIED. 

As  a  purer  specimen  of  genuine  humour  we  may  now 
refer  to  Don  Quixote. 

To  appreciate  this  marvellous  performance,  we  need,  as 
in  other  cases,  to  abstract  the  serious  purpose  ;  which  often 
interferes  with  the  true  effect.  The  ridicule  of  knight-errantry 
evidently  extends  to  the  reproof  of  rash  interference,  out  of 
generous  impulses,  as  in  the  boy  whose  whipping  was  un- 
mercifully increased.  No  person  of  ordinary  humanity  can 
think  this  amusing. 

Next,  there  is  obviously  much  intentional  ridicule  of  the 
current  usages  of  government  and  society  ;  all  which  can  be 
rendered  amusing  in  consequence  of  our  delight  in  humbling 
the  great,  the  proud  and  the  wealthy. 

When  a  smack  of  revenge  can  be  introduced,  the  nar- 
ratives of  the  humiliation  inflicted  are  intensely  agreeable. 
The  duke  and  the  duchess  are  well  caricatured,  as  are  the 
chaplain  and  the  dramatists  ;  and  the  satire  on  promoting 
favourites  to  high  posts  is  also  effective. 

\Yhen  we  come  to  the  Don  and  Sancho,  the  picture  of 
their  self-depicted  folly,  continually  fresh  and  new,  is  our 
great  enjoyment,  and  has  few  drawbacks.  We  hold  them 
welcome  to  make  fools  of  themselves  for  our  satisfaction. 

The  Don  in  his  knight-errantry  is,  of  course,  a  satire 
against  the  order  of  knights ;  but  that  must  be  very  much 
lost  upon  us  from  our  being  little  acquainted  with  the  old 
romance.  The  want  of  such  knowledge  operates  in  various 
ways.  For  one  thing,  it  often  brings  the  narrative  to  the 
point  of  ridicule  and  incredible  extravagance.  We  are 
not  amused  by  the  doings  of  a  madman  as  such;  mad- 
ness must  be  regulated  for  a  purpose,  and  supported 
by  genius  and  touches  of  sobriety.  The  windmill  inci- 
dent is  very  doubtful ;  Sancho's  naive  comments  save 
it,  and  many  other  extravagances,  from  being  simply 
repulsive. 

There  is  broad  fun  for  the  multitude  in  the  number  of 
blows  and  humiliations  inflicted  on  both  personages ;  but 
they  get  over  these,  very  much  like  Homer's  personages. 
It,  however,  gives  an  occasional  coarseness  to  the  story. 
Twice,  the  Don  is  enraged  by  Sancho's  familiar  remarks  in 
deriding  his  pretensions ;  and  we  laugh  at  the  indignation 
of  the  chief,  and  the  humble  but  ingenuous  attitude  of  the 
equii'e. 

Sancho's  inaterialism  is  always  regarded  as  a  part  of  the 


*  DON   QUIXOTE.'  261 

picture,  and  is  thoroughly  well  sustained  by  his  shrewdness, 
and  by  his  command  of  proverbs  to  such  an  excess  as  to 
lead  to  his  being  often  snubbed.  His  ambition,  elation, 
and  self-delusion  are  so  well  supported  that  they  pass  off 
without  seeming  absurd.  His  being  puffed  up  with  the  idea 
of  reaching  high  office  is  so  delicately  managed  as  to  be  the 
chief  humour  of  the  piece.  His  misgivings  as  to  his  wife's 
aptitude  for  being  the  wife  of  a  governor,  and  his  misery  at 
the  thought  of  the  Don  becoming  a  cardinal,  when  his 
patronage  would  be  ecclesiastical  solely,  and  not  in  the 
Don's  line  of  life, — are  all  exquisitely  contrived  for  un- 
mitigated fun. 

The  ridiculous  is  clearly  overdone  in  the  attack  on  the 
puppets ;  but  this  passes  as  satire  due  to  the  author's 
abhorrence  of  the  Moors.  Otherwise^  it  is  next  thing  to 
childish. 

The  rescue  of  the  galley  slaves  can  only  rank  with  the 
whipping  of  the  boy,  as  a  reproof  to  humanitarian  senti- 
ment, for  which  it  is  a  good  standing  quotation. 

We  are  bound  to  take  note  of  the  positive  redeeming 
qualities  of  high  honour  and  honesty,  although  they  are 
absurdly  manifested.  These  serve  to  redeem  both  the  folly 
and  the  occasional  mischief. 

Then,  again,  the  interest  of  love  is  not  entirely  over- 
whelmed by  ridicule,  although  undoubtedly  very  much 
bespattered.  There  is  a  still  more  exquisite  mixture  pos- 
sible, where  love  shall  have  its  charm,  and  yet  be  so  far 
taken  down  as  not  to  make  the  lover  altogether  contempt- 
ible :  this  is  when  the  spectator  and  even  the  lover  himself 
can  laugh  at  it. 

The  Humour  of  Addison  has  been  characterised  by 
Thackeray  in  these  terms  : — 

"  He  came,  the  gentle  satirist,  who  hit  no  unfair  blow  ; 
the  kind  judge,  who  castigated  only  in  smiling.  While 
Swift  went  about,  hanging  and  ruthless — a  literary  Jeffries 
— in  Addison's  kind  court  only  minor  cases  were  tried  : 
only  peccadilloes  and  small  sins  against  society  :  only  a 
dangerous  libertinism  in  tuckers  and  hoops  ;  or  a  nuisance 
in  the  abuse  of  beaux'  canes  and  snuff-boxes.  It  may  be  a 
lady  is  tried  for  breaking  the  peace  of  our  sovereign  lady 
Queen  Anne,  and  ogling  too  dangerously  from  the  side- box  : 
or  a  Templar  for  beating  the  watch,  or  breaking  Priscian's 


262  HUMOUE  EXEMPLIFIED. 

head  :  or  a  citizen's  wife  for  caring  too  much  for  the  puppet- 
show,  and  too  httle  for  her  husband  and  children  :  every- 
one of  the  httle  sinners  brought  before  him  is  amusing,  and 
he  dismisses  each  with  the  pleasantest  penalties  and  the 
most  charming  words  of  admonition.'' 

This  is  a  very  fine  ideal  of  w  hat  Humour  should  be ; 
yet  we  must  receive  it  with  some  qualifications.  We  may 
fairly  doubt  whether  any  man  could  become  a  great  public 
favomite,  without  dipping  his  pen  much  deeper  in  malignity 
than  is  here  represented. 

The  famous  paper  on  the  Book  of  Psalms  written  on  a 
face  of  Charles  I.,  is  supposed  to  be  mere  incongruity'  as 
Buch ;  but  the  malignant  humour  is  easily  traceable.  It 
throws  contempt  on  the  artist,  by  a  transparent  ironical 
mockery  of  his  work. 

Again,  the  treatment  of  fine  ladies — as  in  the  play 
with  the  fans,  and  in  the  wearing  of  patches  on  difi'erent 
sides  of  the  face  indicative  of  Whig  or  Tory  leanings — 
does  not  charge  them  with  immorality  or  serious  vice,  but 
insinuates  such  an  amount  of  silliness  as  would  be  sufQ- 
ciently  offensive  to  themselves.  The  condemnation  may 
not  be  damaging,  like  downright  moral  censure,  or  absolute 
folly ;  nevertheless,  it  involves  the  attributes  of  ill-concealed 
vanity  and  weakness  of  understanding,  which  would  be  felt 
by  those  that  considered  themselves  aimed  at,  and  would  be 
a  treat  of  malignity  to  others. 

Let  us  refer  more  particularly  to  the  Sir  Eoger  de 
Coverley  papers.  It  depends  on  the  management  whether 
such  a  character  inspires  in  us  contempt  or  good-natured 
laughter.  The  genius  lies  in  contriving  expressive  situa- 
tions ;  and  here  Addison  excels. 

In  the  opening  paper,  Sir  Eoger  is  at  home,  and  the 
'  Spectator '  is  his  guest.  His  amiability  is  finely  touched, 
and  emphasized  by  the  attachment  of  his  domestics.  The 
humour  begins  at  his  relations  with  his  chaplain  ;  in  which 
the  author  introduces  an  abundantly  severe  satire,  though 
very  softly  w^orded,  on  the  clergy  of  the  time.  This  is  the 
real  drift  of  the  paper. 

The  fourth  paper  takes  up  and  intensifies  the  hit  at  the 
clergy.  It  professes  to  be  Sir  Eoger's  Sunday  occupation. 
It  gives  his  behaviour  at  church,  with  which  we  are  all 
familiar.  While  he  is  making  himself  sufficiently  ridiculous 
there,  the  author  takes  care  to  supply  redeeming  touches. 


AonisoN. 


VJCuM 


to  tlio  '  i>ITtH'(    (hut  tho  jTonornl  ^ood  houho  m\tl   WiM'tliiiiosM 
dI'  his  ihaijU'tiT  inuko  hin  I'ruMuls  ohstMVo  l,hi>Mt<  littto  miii^u 
laritios  as  l\>ils  tluit  ralluM-  st>t  olT  M»a.M   hltMuinh   IiIh  ^ood 
qinvlitiort  '.     TIuk  ini^hf.  Ix*  sill   vory  |.nu<  if  liin  lolly  worn  a, 
littlo  losH  piH)iiounft\(l. 

Mt^fon^  t'loHiii^'  llio  puptM-,  llii<  .iiitlior  iui,y\  owl  of  Iiim  way 
to  proviilo  tho    i't>a.ilt>i'   willi   ;i    slion;-    iiiiiit.ioii   nl'   iniiliiMoim 
l)l(<asill'(<    at    tlu^   (>\|)onr;o    of    llit>    S(|iiii'o   iiiui    piiinoii    o(    llio 
a.(Ijoiiiiii{4;  parish.     Tin\   pr(^lt'\l   in  iniu-h   loo  i.IimiiIim-  Io  nn 
j)oso  upon  any  ont\. 

"  The*  fair  mahn'Mtiuidin;';  liol  W(><>n  Sir  l\o;',oi' ami  hin  ("hap 
l.-iin,  and  tluMr  mutual  coniMU'iiMiio  ni  .li>ni;',  ;;oo.l,  im  I  ho 
nioro  roniaikahlo,  luM-ausi^  th(\  vory  iiosl.  \illi\;',o  m  fii^noiin 
for  tlu^  (lilVtM'oncc^H  aiiiil  conttintionn  that  liso  Itotwiuiu  tho 
])arHon  and  tho  scpiii'o,  who  livi^  in  ii.  poipt^tual  Hta.t(<  tif  wiif. 
'I'ht>  parson  is  aJways  pr(«n.chin><  a.t  tlitN  mpiiro  ;  and  tho 
scpiiro,  to  ho  nu'(>n}^od  on  tho  parson,  n(\vor  conioH  to  ohinch. 
Tho  H<piir(^  hiiM  niad(<  a,ll  his  t(Miants  atlunsts  and  titlio- 
Htoah^rs  ;  wlnlo  tho  parson  instru<'tn  tlioni  o\oyy  Mnnday  in 
tho  dij^nity  of  his  ordi^r,  and  insinuat(Mi  to  thoiii,  in  Mlinont 
(^vory  s(>nnon,  I  hat  ho  is  n.  hott(«r  man  than  his  pit.tron.  In 
Hhoi't,  m.'ilii'i'M  am  como  to  lun'h  lui  <^xtr(^llllty,  tlin>t  th(t 
H(piiid  has  not  said  his  prayors  oilJior  in  piihlic  or  privatit 
this  half  yoar  ;  and  Ihnt  I  ho  piu'iion  tliioiiti'ini  hmi.  il  ho 
(loos  not  iik^ikI  his  mamiors,  to  priiy  for  liim  in  fho  liico  of 
tho  wliolo  ooiii^n"o|,'ation." 

Tho  picturo  of  tho  two  nion  is  a  >.,'roHii  caricaturo,  ovi^n 
of  tho  looso  liahits  of  tho  timo  ;  and  tint  iioftiiiuui  of  tho 
lani^iiaj^fo  cannot  disj^iiiso  nor  mollify  tho  poiiioiic^d  darts. 
Whothor  for  iii^onuitv  in  dnviniii>-;  ••ir<MiiiiMtiM;(TM,  or  for 
niii,li(^nitiy  of  piirpos(),  tli<i  i;aJ,nd  iii  i>\\  ii,  Iryol  with  luiy tliiii^.i; 
ill  I'opo  (>r  Swift. 

It  has  Im'c^ii  cmplud/ically  pointed  out  hy  ljiHp;li  lliiiit, 
by  Tliai'koray  himiiclf,  and  hy  rrofr'ssor  IVIinto,  that  tho 
g(!iiial  sido  of  I.Ih^  1 1  iiiiiiiiir  m  tho  S/'fctufor  dopondod  not 
on  Addison,  hut  on  til.rijc.  |''of  tho  convorttion  of  satiro 
into  lluniour,  hy  Mio  icdrcmiii^  powor  of  i.iiidcr  l'o,oliii^/, 
Htocio  is  ono  of  our  not,c(|  oxa,niplo,H.  lie  is  in  IJiiu  roitpoct 
tho  antithosis  aJikn  of  I'opo,  Hwift,  a,iid  Addison.  (l^oo 
Minto'H  J'rnnf  /,i/(rii//i,n\  Aimuson  iijhI  1  vi'i;!;!,!';,) 


l''or'    Vitnp<',rii,tion    and    llidiriilo,    Hwift   ha.u   few   (irpiiiJn, 
and     no    suporior.       On     raro    o<!c,aHion:t,     ho     oxiniphlion 


264  HUMOUB   EXEMPLIFIED. 

Humour;  and,  had  his  disposition  been  less  savage  and 
mahgnant,  he  would  have  done  so  much  oftener. 

His  Gulliver  and  his  Tale  of  a  Tub  have  a  quantity  of 
fine  innuendo  and  irony,  applied  chiefly  to  politicians  and 
ecclesiastics ;  the  Battle  of  the  Books  takes  up  scholars. 
His  richness  of  invention  maintains  the  double  attitude  so 
well  that  we  cannot  charge  him  with  vituperation  properly 
so  called.  He  has  also  a  certain  redeeming  purpose ;  his 
satire  of  rulers  being  moved  by  an  apparently  honest 
sympathy  with  the  governed. 

The  poem  on  his  own  end  is  a  curious  selection  of 
circumstances  from  the  worst  side  of  human  nature,  cun- 
ningly contrived  to  make  mankind  out  selfish,  hypocritical 
and  mean.  It  has  no  end  but  to  display  his  invention  and 
gratify  his  own  spite  ;  it  must  fail  to  carry  his  readers  with 
him. 

A  certain  touch  of  Humour  occurs  in  the  passage  where 
Gulliver  was  kept  as  a  p3t  of  the  Brobdignagian  princess, 
and  had  various  mishaps,  but  always  came  under  her  pro- 
tection. Even  here  mockery  is  the  prevailing  circumstance, 
only  more  effective  by  the  dilution  in  kindliness. 

His  splendid  character-drawing  lends  itself  to  both  ridi- 
cule and  humour.  Leigh  Hunt  specially  admires  '  Mary 
the  Cook-maid's  Letter  to  Dr.  Sheridan,'  as  a  happy  por- 
trait of  incoherence  and  irrelevance  taken  from  the  life.  A 
few  lines  may  be  given  as  illustrative  of  this  kind  of 
humour : — 

And  the  Dean,  my  master,  is  an  honester  man  than  you  and  all  your 

kin  : 
He  has  more  goodness  in  his  little  finger,  than  you  have  in  your  whole 

body  : 
My  master  is  a  parsonable  man,   and  not  a  spindle-shank'd  hoddy- 

doddy. 
And  now,  whereby  I  find  you  would  fain  make  an  excuse. 
Because  my  master  one  day,  in  anger,  call'd  you  a  goose  ; 
Which,  and  I  am  sure  I  have  been  his  servant  four  years  since  October, 
And  he  never  call'd  me  worse  than  sweetheart,  drmik  or  sober. 

Fielding  provides  a  rich  storehouse  of  the  Ludicrous. 
There  is  over  his  whole  work  an  air  of  Humour,  which  is 
often  turned  to  Satire.  He  makes  ludicrous  degradations  of 
tlie  Homeric  invocations  by  using  their  forms  on  lowly  oc- 
casions. In  T()in.  Jone.-<,  Molly  Seagrim's  battle  with  the 
l);nish   congregation   in  the    churchyard   and  her   routing 


FIELDING.  265 

them  with  a  bone,  is  sung  by  the  Muse  in  the  Homeric 
style  : — 

"  Eecount,  O  Muse,  the  fate  of  those  who  fell  on  this 
fatal  day.  First  Jenuny  Tweedle  felt  on  his  hinder  head 
the  direful  bone.  Him  the  pleasant  banks  of  sweetly- 
winding  Stour  had  nourished,  where  he  at  first  learned  the 
vocal  art,  with  which,  wandering  up  and  down  at  wakes 
and  fairs,  he  cheered  the  rural  nymphs  and  swains,  when 
upon  the  green  they  interweaved  the  sprightly  dance ;  while 
he  himself  stood  fiddling  and  jumping  to  his  own  music. 
Hon:  Utile  nuio  avails  his  fiddle  !  He  thumps  the  verdant 
floor  with  his  carcase.  Next  old  Eehepole,  the  sow-gelder, 
received  a  blow  in  his  forehead  from  our  Amazonian  heroine, 
and  immediately  fell  to  the  ground.  He  was  a  swinging  fat 
fellow,  and  fell  with  almost  as  much  noise  as  a  house.  His 
tohacco-box  dropt  at  the  same  time  from  his  pocket,  which 
Molly  took  up  as  lawful  spoils.  .  .  .  Tom  Freckle,  the 
smith's  son,  was  the  next  victim  to  her  rage.  He  was  an 
ingenious  workman,  and  made  excellent  pattens  ;  nay,  the 
very  patten  with  which  he  was  knocked  down  was  his  own 
workmanship.  Had  he  been  at  that  time  singing  psalms  in  the 
church,  he  would  have  avoided  a  broken  head." 

The  following  are  some  shorter  specimens  from  Totn 
Jones  : — 

Sophia's  maid  divulging  to  her  mistress  a  secret  that  she 
had  promised  Tom  to  keep,  ends  thus  : — 

"  So  I  hope  your  ladyship  will  not  mention  a  word  :  for 
he  gave  me  a  crown  never  to  mention  it,  and  made  me 
swear  upon  a  book,  but  I  believe,  indeed,  it  was  not  the 
Bible". 

The  same  character  says  to  her  mistress  : — 

"  It  would  be  very  ungrateful  in  me  to  desire  to  leave 
your  ladyship  ;  because  as  why,  /  should  never  get  so  good  a 
place  again  ' ' . 

To  illustrate  the  value  of  contrast  in  art.  Fielding  has  a 
side-stroke  of  satire  against  ladies  who  like  an  ugly  com- 
panion for  foil : — 

"The  ladies  themselves  seem  so  sensible  of  this,  that 
they  are  all  industrious  to  procure  foils  :  nay,  they  will  be- 
come foils  to  themselves  ;  for  I  have  observed  (at  Bath 
particularly)  that  they  endeavour  to  appear  as  ugly  as 
possible  m  the  morning,  in  order  to  set  off  that  beauty 
which  they  intend  to  show  you  in  the  evening  ". 


2G6  HUMOUR    EXEMPLIFIED. 

The  same  subject  gives  him  an  opening  for  an  in- 
geniously ironical  stroke  of  satire  :  — 

"  To  say  the  truth,  these  soporific  parts  [where  Homer 
nods]  are  so  many  scenes  of  serious  artfully  interwoven,  in 
order  to  contrast  and  set  off  the  rest ;  and  this  is  the  true 
meaning  of  a  late  facetious  writer,  who  told  the  public,  that 
tohenever  he  ivas  dull  they  might  be  assured  there  was  a  design 
in  it ". 

It  will  be  sufficient  for  our  purpose  of  expounding  the 
conditions  of  success  in  Humorous  creations,  to  select  pue 
more  example  from  our  own  contemporaries. 

In  the  novels  of  George  Eliot  we  find  abundant  ex- 
amples of  the  richest  humour,  accompanied  with  turns  of 
language  that  could  be  brought  under  Wit ;  although  the 
epigrammatic  type  of  pure  word-play  is  not  aimed  at  spe- 
cially, still  less  the  mere  pun.  She  is  both  satirist  and 
humourist  on  the  great  scale.  She  dives  into  the  inmost 
recesses  of  egotism  in  all  its  shapes— selfishness,  conceit, 
vanity,  hypocrisy,  self-delusion ;  while  intellectual  imbe- 
cility, either  as  ignorance  or  as  folly,  is  her  special  butt. 
By  making  ample  allowance  for  real  generosity  and  amia- 
bility in  her  characters,  she  becomes  entitled  to  the  higher 
praise  of  humour.  Both  for  serious  and  for  comic  effects, 
she  possesses  the  genius  of  illustrative  comparison  and 
siniile  in  no  ordinary  measure  ;  and  can  frame  the  most 
dehcate  innuendos.  The  theory  of  Humour  can  be  abun- 
dantly confirmed  from  her  examples  ;  it  is  always  at  the 
expense  of  some  one's  dignity  or  consequence  ;  although 
very  often  whole  classes,  or  mankind  at  large,  are  pointed 
at.     Thus:— 

"  We  are  so  pitiably  in  subjection  to  all  sorts  of  vanity 
— even  the  very  vanities  we  are  practically  renouncing". 
This  is  intended  to  take  everybody  down,  and  yet  we  can 
relish  its  cleverness. 

"  No  system,  religious  or  political,  I  believe,  has  laid  it 
down  as  a  principle  that  all  men  are  alike  virtuous,  or  even 
that  all  the  people  rated  for  £80  houses  are  an  honour  to 
their  species."  Only  certain  classes  are  intended  here ;  and 
those  not  included  will  take  pleasure  in  the  satire. 

"  If  there  are  two  things  not  to  be  hidden — love  and  a 
cough— I  say  there  is  a  third,  and  that  is  ignorance,  when 


GEOEGE    ELIOT.  '267 

once  a  man  is  obliged  to  do  something  besides  wagging  his 
head."  There  is  passable  humour  in  the  conjunction  of  love 
and  a  cough,  and  a  pretty  strong  dose  of  contempt  for  igno- 
rance ;  with  which  the  knowing  ones  will  be  delighted. 

The  sayings  of  the  gifted  and  severe  Mrs.  Poyser  are 
usually  downright  and  strong  ;  occasionally,  they  exemplify 
the  author's  delicacy  of  sux-prise  and  innuendo.  For  ex- 
ample : — 

"  I'm  not  denyin'  the  women  are  foolish ;  God  Almighty 
made  'em  to  match  the  men  ". 

If  we  were  to  be  critical,  for  the  sake  of  a  Ehetorical 
lesson,  we  might  say  that  the  humour  is  sometimes  sacrificed 
to  the  pungency.  The  author's  judgments  of  human  beings 
in  general  are  too  severe  to  be  uniformly  agreeable.  There 
is  an  unnecessary  harshness  in  such  a  saying  as  this  : — 
'  We  are  apt  to  be  kinder  to  the  brutes  that  love  us  than  to 
the  women  that  love  us.  Is  it  because  the  brutes  are 
dumb?'  Even  if  there  were  plausibility  in  this  surmise,  it 
is  needlessly  grating. 

"  Mrs.  Tulliver,  as  we  have  seen,  was  not  without  influ- 
ence over  her  husband.  No  woman  is;  she  can  always 
incline  him  to  do  either  what  she  wishes,  or  the  reverse." 
This  is  clever  satire,  but  not  calculated  to  please.  It  is 
typical  of  an  extensive  manufacture  of  witty  sayings  at  the 
expense  of  the  kindly  home  relations. 


WIT. 

1.  Wit,  in  its  most  distinctive  feature,  is  a  play  upon 
words,  rendered  possible  by  the  frequent  plurality  of 
meanings  in  the  same  language. 

The  ingenuity  displayed  in  this  exercise  may  be 
such  as  to  excite  surprise  and  admiration. 

The  pleasure  of  admiration  may  arise  from  ingenuity  in 
any  work  of  meD  ;  for  example,  inventions  in  machinery,  as 
the  steam  engine  ;  master-strokes  of  tactics  in  war,  like 
Wellington's  Lines  of  Torres  Vedras ;  discoveries  in  science, 
as  gravity;  skill  in  games.  None  of  these  obtain  the 
designation  of  Wit. 

Pope's  definition  of  Wit — 

What  oft  was  thought,  but  ne'er  so  well  expressed — 

points  to  the  skilled  employment  of  language  generally,  and 
would  have  been  received  in  his  day  as  a  just  definition.  In 
our  time,  a  narrower  meaning  prevails,  although  not  to  the 
exclusion  of  a  wider  and  vaguer  usage.  All  that  class  of 
effects,  arising  out  of  the  plural  meanings  of  words,  is  Wit 
in  this  narrow  sense.  By  whatever  name  expressed,  there 
is  a  notable  distinctiveness  in  the  process  as  a  literary  art. 

The  Figure  of  Speech  named  Epigram  coincides  very 
largely  with  this  meaning  of  Wit.  It  is  an  agreeable  effect 
of  surprise,  through  the  play  upon  words  that  have  more 
than  one  meaning.     (See  Part  Eikst,  Epigram.) 

A  distinction  is  drawn  between  the  Epigram  proper  and 
the  Pun.  It  is  under  this  last  form  that  everyday  Wit  runs 
into  the  wildest  profusion.  Nine-tenths  of  all  the  so-called 
witticisms  are  puns. 

The  Paradox  is  a  name  for  some  startling  proposition, 
which  owes  its  force  to  an  apparent  contradiction,  like  the 
I'.pigram.  Hence  it  is  used  among  the  names  for  defining 
and  illustrating  Wit. 

Next  to  the  Epigram,  we  include  effects  coming  under 


PLAY   UPON   WOKDS.  269 

the  Eigures  of  Innuendo  and  Irony  ;  which  work  by  afford- 
ing two  (or  more)  different  openings  to  the  thoughts  ;  the 
one  apparent  but  not  intended,  the  other  intended  but  not 
apparent. 

One  of  Jerrold's  well-known  witticisms  was  directed 
against  an  objectionable  person,  who  said  of  a  certain  musical 
air,  that  '  he  was  quite  carried  away  by  it '.  'Is  there 
any  one  here  that  can  whistle  it  ?  '  was  the  remark.  The 
play  upon  '  carried  away '  was  the  instrument  of  a  subtle  and 
telling  innuendo. 

Voltaire  said  of  Dante's  reputation — that,  if  people 
read  him,  the  admiration  would  cease.  Without  word-play, 
there  is  here  a  cutting  insinuation,  aimed  at  Dante  and  his 
admirers  alike. 

The  point  and  compression  of  the  balanced  sentence  may 
be  treated  as  nearly  allied  to  effects  of  wit  proper,  although 
wanting  in  verbal  equivocations: — 'My  poverty,  but  not  my 
will,  consents'.  'Not  that  I  loved  Cgesar  less,  but  that  I 
loved  Eome  more.'  Many  of  Fuller's  witticisms  are  of  this 
kind  :  '  I  shall  not  wonder  that  good  men  die  so  soon,  but 
that  they  live  so  long  ;  seeing  wicked  men  desire  their  room 
here  on  earth  and  God  their  company  in  heaven '. 

"When  we  pass  from  the  meanings  now  stated,  we  lose 
the  distinctive  and  well-marked  character  of  word-play,  and 
enter  on  a  wider  range  of  literary  ingenuity,  approaching 
more  closely  to  Pope's  definition.  For  example,  the  use  of 
balance  and  antithesis,  when  very  effective,  may  receive  the 
compliment  of  wit.  In  this  application,  something  is  due 
to  the  idea  of  compact  brevity  and  terseness,  which  entered 
into  the  original  notion  of  the  Epigram,  and  adheres  still  to 
the  character  of  Wit.  As  this  effect  demands  an  ingenious 
manipulation  of  words,  and  imparts  an  agreeable  surprise 
when  well  executed,  it  easily  chimes  in  with  the  more  strict 
employment  of  the  term. 

Still  further  from  the  primitive  and  standard  meaning 
is  the  application  of  the  word  to  a  brilliant  simile  or  meta- 
phor. Ingenuity,  originality,  and  the  putting  of  much 
meaning  into  few  words,  together  operate  to  awaken  sur- 
prise and  admiration  :  and,  as  language  is  the  vehicle  of  the 
effect,  we  regard  it  as  nearly  allied  to  the  characteristic 
effects  of  wit.     Thus — 

Bright  like  the  sun  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike, 
And  like  the  sun  they  shine  on  all  alike. 


270  WIT. 

When  metaphors  or  similes  are  exaggerated  and  dis- 
paraging, they  are  ministerial  to  vituperation,  ridicule,  or 
humour.  They  are  called  wit,  when  they  are  distinguished 
for  brevity  or  verbal  point.  Jerrold,  after  a  bad  illness, 
described  himself  as  having  '  made  a  runaway  knock  at 
Death's  door '. 

Sydney  Smith's  definition  of  marriage  is  called  witty, 
from  his  ingenuity  in  framing  a  simile  with  a  plurality  of 
applications  :  '  It  resembles  a  pair  of  shears,  so  joined  that 
they  cannot  be  separated ;  often  moving  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, yet  always  punishing  any  one  who  comes  bet\yeen 
them  '. 

2.  Seeing  that  Wit,  in  its  purest  form,  aims  chiefly 
at  a  pleasing  surprise,  the  originality  and  ingenuity 
must  be  of  a  distinguished  sort  :  it  must  sparkle. 

It  may  fail  from  one  or  other  of  three  vices :  (1) 
Coarseness,  (2)  Kemoteness  or  Obscurity,  (3)  Excess. 

(1)  Wit,  in  itself,  besides  possessing  the  essential  circum- 
stance of  ingenuity,  must  avoid  Coarseness.  The  search  for 
witticisms  has  to  be  controlled  by  refinement  or  delicacy. 
Some  of  the  greatest  wits  have  overstepped  this  boundary  : 
as  Aristophanes,  among  the  ancients  ;  Eabelais,  Swift  and 
Pope,  among  moderns.      (See  Humour,  p.  244.) 

(2)  Like  every  other  effect  of  style.  Wit  must  be  intel- 
ligible to  those  addressed.  Far-fetched  allusions  are  con- 
demned, whatever  be  their  purpose. 

(3)  The  greatest  risk,  in  constantly  aiming  at  wit,  is 
overdoing  it.  Like  all  pungent  effects,  it  palls  by  repeti- 
tion ;  although,  by  originahty,  the  limits  of  surfeit  can  be 
so  far  extended. 

The  torturing  of  language  may  be  carried  to  a  point 
where  meaning  is  entirely  sacrificed  to  effect.  This  point 
is  reached  by  conundrums,  riddles  and  acrostics. 

3.  In  the  great  majority  of  instances,  Wit  lends 
itself  to  other  effects.  It  may  be  used  in  furtherance 
of  any  of  the  great  emotional  qualities,  although  most 
frequently  employed  in  connexion  with  Vituperation, 
Bidicule  and  Humour. 

In  all  such  cases,  its  propriety  must  be  ruled  by 
aptness  for  the  end  in  view. 

As  employed  in  Vituperation,  Eidicule,  and   the  Ludi- 


AS    THE  MEDIUM    OF    OTHER  EFFECTS.  271 

crous,  wit  has  to  be  judged  by  the  results.  We  have  already 
recoguized,  among  the  palliatives  of  the  ludicrous  that  con- 
vert it  into  Humour,  the  agency  of  Wit. 

It  is  easy  to  quote  witticisms  that  draw  the  sting  of 
vituperation,  by  the  delicacy  and  ingenuity  of  the  wording. 

A  Puritan  is  said  to  have  been  the  author  of  the  pun — 
Great  praise  to  God,  and  little  Laud  to  the  Devil. 

Sir  Francis  Burdett,  when  he  became  a  Tory,  had  the 
want  of  tact  to  declaim  against  the  prevailing  cant  of 
patriotism.  Lord  John  Eussell  retorted  that  there  was  one 
thing  even  worse — the  re-cant  of  patriotism.  This  will  be 
celebrated  among  the  arrows  of  invective  feathered  by  wit. 

Although  somewhat  less  frequent.  Wit  may  be  employed 
to  convey  and  enhance  a  comphment,  and  also  to  fence  it, 
by  abating  the  jealousy  of  being  praised. 

Jerrold's  Wit  was  for  the  most  part  depreciatory,  but 
there  were  exceptions.  His  epitaph  on  Charles  Knight, 
the  pubhsher,  a  man  greatly  esteemed,  was  both  happy 
and  complimentary:    'Good  Knight'. 

Chaucer  could  mingle  touches  of  depreciation  with  his 
characters  in  a  way  to  heighten  the  force  of  his  eulogy. 
The  Clerk  is  a  good  example. 

Goldsmith's  fine  compliment  on  Garrick — 

An  abridgment  of  all  that  is  pleasant  in  man — 
is  not  marred,  but  the  contrary,  by  the  enumeration  of  his 
foibles  that  follows. 

It  is  characteristic  of  Congreve  to  work  from  exactly  the 
opposite  view.  He  concedes  a  comphment  to  point  an 
invective  :— '  His  v/ant  of  learning  gives  him  more  oppor- 
tunities to  show  his  natural  parts'.  Wycherley  has  the 
same  turn,  though  mostly  less  polished  in  the  wording  : — |I 
can  allege  nothing  against  your  practice— but  your  ill 
success '. 

Fielding  even  insinuates  a  satire  on  mankind  in  general 
by  means  of  a  compliment  paid  to  an  individual  :— 

"Poverty  and  distress  seemed  to  him  to  give  none  a 
right  of  aggravating  those  misfortunes.  The  meanness  of 
her  condition  did  not  represent  her  misery  as  of  little  conse- 
quence in  his  eyes,  nor  did  it  appear  to  justify,  or  even  to 
palliate,  his  guilt,  in  bringing  that  misery  upon  her." 

By  making  one  the  exception,  the  author  makes  the  rest 
the  rule. 


272  WIT   EXEMPLIFIED. 

The  excessive  displays  of  the  Love  emotion  are  tempered 
by  Wit,  as  well  as  by  Humour,  and  so  kept  at  a  greater  dis- 
tance from  mawkish  sentimentality.  No  one  excels  Shake- 
speare in  this  device  for  the  dilution  and  redemption  of 
erotic  extravagance.  His  Benedick  and  Beatrice  play  at 
love-making,  and  disguise  the  reality  of  their  mutual  passion 
by  banter,  quips  and  cutting  repartees. 

Among  effects  allied  to  the  nature  of  Wit,  and  illustrative 
of  it,  although  more  suitably  discussed  in  a  different  con- 
nexion (see  Melody),  are  Alliteration,  Ehyme  and  Metre. 

EXEMPLIFICATION. 

Under  Figures  of  Speech,  a  large  amount  of  attention 
was  bestowed  on  Epigram,  as  well  as  on  Irony  and  Innuendo. 
In  all  species  of  Wit,  these  are  recurring  effects.  Hyper- 
bole or  Exaggeration  is  also  one  of  the  principal  forms  of 
the  ludicrous. 

It  has  been  already  apparent  that  the  chief,  though  not 
the  only,  use  of  Wit  is  to  bring  forth  the  Ludicrous,  whether 
as  Ridicule  or  as  Humour  :  so  that  the  further  exemplifica- 
tion of  the  quality  will  implicate  these  other  effects.  Almost 
all  the  eminent  wits  are  humourists  ;  in  a  few  the  humour 
depends  less  upon  word-play  than  upon  other  devices. 

In  classing  witticisms,  with  a  view  to  expounding  Wit, 
we  should  have  to  treat  as  one  species  those  arising  from  the 
play  of  language  alone.  Between  these  and  such  as  reside 
entirely  in  the  thought,  there  is  a  class  dependent  partly  on 
the  one  circumstance  and  partly  on  the  other. 

In  all  the  kinds,  there  may  be  a  subdivision  into  Pure 
Wit,  where  the  effect  is  simple  surprise,  and  Applied  Wit, 
where  a  further  end  is  sought,  whether  vituperation,  compli- 
ment, humour  or  illustration  of  a  truth. 

Of  our  great  humourists,  some  depend  very  little  upon 
word-play ;  others  a  .  great  deal.  The  finest  passages  in 
Don  Quixote  are  not  remarkable  for  what  is  strictly  called 
wit.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Eabelais.  Even  Moliere's 
huniour  and  sarcasm  do  not  often  exhibit  the  play  of 
epigrams  or  puns;  although  irony  and  innuendo  are  suffi- 
ciently worked. 

Tlie  Elizabethans  are  our  earliest  English  source  of 
purely  witty  combinations.  They  often  sacrifice  more  im- 
portaut  qualities  to  word-play.    Thus,  of  Lyly  the  '  Euphuist,' 


THE   ELIZABETHANS. — SHAKESPEAKE.  273 

Professor  Minto  remarks  :  '  There  is  hardly  a  sentence  in 
his  comedies  that  does  not  contain  some  pun,  or  clever 
antithesis,  or  far-fetched  image.  He  is  so  uninterruptedly- 
witty  that  he  destroys  his  own  wit ;  the  play  on  words  and 
images  ceases  to  be  unexpected,  and  so  falls  out  of  the 
definition.' 

Shakespeare's  word-play  is  notorious,  and  shows  alike 
the  good  and  the  bad  side  of  the  exercise.  Occasionally,  it 
yields  humour;  at  other  times,  it  is  nothing  but  witty  sur- 
prise, of  all  degrees  of  originality  and  brilliancy ;  while,  again, 
it  is  characterized  as  a  tissue  of  conceits.  As  displayed  in 
*  Eomeo  and  Juliet,'  it  is  designated  by  Mr.  Dowden  as  '  the 
sought-out  phrases,  the  curious  antitheses  of  the  amorous 
dialect  of  the  period  '. 

Why,  then,  0  brawling  love  1     0  loving  hate  1 

0  anything,  of  nothing  first  create ! 

O  heavy  lightness !     Serious  vanity ! 

Mis-shapen  chaos  of  well-seeming  forms  ! 

Feather  of  lead,  bright  smoke,  cold  fire,  sick  health  1 

Beatrice  affords  two  characteristic  specimens  of  Shake- 
speare's wit,  both  on  the  good  side.  Flouting  matrimony  she 
says  : — '  Adalm's  sous  are  my  brethren,  and,  truly,  I  hold 
it  sin  to  match  in  my  kindred  ' ;  where  the  effect  lies  mainly 
in  the  dexterous  word-play.  At  another  time  she  turns  the 
point  of  her  uncle's  compliment  on  her  perspicacity  : — 
'  I  have  a  good  eye,  uncle  ;  I  can  see  a  church  by  daylight ' ; 
where  the  effect  lies  wholly  in  the  conflict  of  ideas. 

In  Butler's  Hudibras,  the  most  remarkable  quality  is 
vituperation,  with  more  or  less  of  the  Eidiculous  conjoined. 
The  severity  is  too  great  for  Humour ;  while  the  arts  em- 
ployed are  not  sufficiently  expressed  by  Wit.  Of  pure  play 
upon  words  there  is  not  much,  except  in  the  forcing  of  double 
and  triple  rhymes.  It  is  the  originality  of  the  situations 
and  the  illustrative  similitudes  that  produce  the  impression, 
which,  however,  is  weakened  by  the  exaggeration  and  the 
intense  partisanship  of  the  whole.  It  is  not  so  much  wit  as 
a  severe  reflection  on  mankind  to  say — 

What  makes  all  doctrines  plain  and  clear? 
About  two  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
And  that  which  was  proved  true  before 
Prove  false  again  ?     Two  hundred  more. 

Butler's  fertility  of  crushing  similitudes  is  unsurpassed. 
Thus— 

13 


274  WIT    EXEMPLIFIED. 

The  truest  characters  of  ignorance 
Are  vanit}-,  and  pride,  and  arrogance  ; 
As  blind  men  use  to  bear  their  noses  higher 
Than  those  that  have  their  eyes  and  sight  entire. 

Voltaire's  famous  saying  on  the  execution  of  Admiral 
Byng,  for  alleged  cowardice  in  the  face  of  the  enemy, — that 
it  was  done  pour  encourager  les  mitres, — is  an  exquisite  play 
upon  words,  with  an  under  meaning  of  sarcastic  contradic- 
tion. The  supposed  defect  of  the  admiral  being  '  courage,' 
the  word  encourager,  by  its  etymology,  would  give  the 
remedy,  '  to  infuse  courage  ' ;  by  its  acquired  meaning,  it  is 
in  glaring  contradiction  to  the  use  of  capital  punishment, 
whose  end  is  to  deter  in  the  highest  degree.  It  is  a  witty 
and  crushing  innuendo. 

Congreve's  comedies  are  one  scene  of  vituperation  and 
ridicule,  relieved  by  the  arts  of  innuendo,  irony  and  clever 
comparison,  and  by  a  continuous  display  of  point  and  wit  in 
expression.  He  succeeds  in  making  almost  tolerable  his 
sacrifice  of  every  kindly  relation  of  family  and  friendship  to 
an  insatiable  craving  for  witty  depreciation.  Nobody  and 
nothing  is  spared,  till  we  simply  forget  the  anti-social  bent 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  language  and  the  wit.  A  sentence 
from  '  The  Way  of  the  World,'  aimed  at  a  club  of  ladies, 
might  be  extended  to  all  the  characters : — '  They  come 
together  like  the  coroner's  inquest,  to  sit  upon  the  murdered 
reputations  of  the  week  ' . 

Here  is  a  typical  specimen  of  the  feeling  and  the  ex- 
pression : — 

"  Witwond.  A  messenger? — a  mule,  a  beast  of  burden  ! 
he  has  brought  me  a  letter  from  the  fool,  my  brother,  as 
heavy  as  a  panegyric  in  a  funeral  sermon,  or  a  copy  of 
commendatory  verses  from  one  poet  to  another  :  and  what's 
worse,  'tis  as  sure  a  forerunner  of  the  author  as  an  epistle 
dedicatory. 

"  Mirahell.  A  fool,  and  your  brother,  Witwond  ! 

"  Witwond.  Ay,  ay,  my  half  brother.  My  half  brother 
he  is,  no  nearer  upon  honour. 

"  Mirahell.  Then  'tis  possible  he  may  be  but  half  a  fool." 

Witwond  deserves  his  fall,  but  this  same  Mirahell  had 
just  before  finished  an  invective  on  Witwond,  suggested  by 
a  casual  praise  of  him  that  '  he  has  something  of  good-nature, 
and  does  not  always  want  wit '.     'Not  always,'  jibes  Mira- 


CONGREVE. — SHERIDAN. — SYDNEY  SMITH.       275 

bell ;  '  but  as  often  as  his  memory  fails  him  and  his  common- 
place of  comparisons.  He  is  a  fool  with  a  good  memory, 
and  some  few  scraps  of  other  folk's  wit.  He  is  one  whose 
conversation  can  never  be  approved,  yet  it  is  now  and  then 
to  be  endm'ed.  He  has  indeed  one  good  quality,  he  is  not 
exceptions  ;  for  he  so  passionately  affects  the  reputation 
of  understanding  raillery,  that  he  will  construe  an  affront  into 
a  jest,  and  call  downright  rudeness  and  ill-language  satire 
and  fire.' 

Sheridan's  various  and  sparkling  Wit  was  spread  over 
his  speeches  and  his  plays  alike.  The  part  of  Mrs.  Malaprop 
in  the  Rivals  is  filled  out  by  clever  confusion  of  meanings 
through  similarity  of  sound.  '  As  headstrong  as  an  allegory 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  '  is  witty  and  humorous  by  the  un- 
expected juxtaposition  of  the  two  meanings,  with  the  efiect 
of  degrading  the  more  dignified.  Shakespeare,  as  well  as 
others,  had  exemplified  the  manner ;  as  when  Falstaff  is 
declared  by  Mrs.  Quickly  to  be  '  in  Arthur's  bosom,  if  ever 
man  went  to  Arthur's  bosom '.  The  device  is  now  one  of 
the  persisting  species  of  comic  invention. 

Sydney  Smith  is  entitled  to  the  compliment  of  a  wit ; 
but  his  proper  designation  is  as  wide  as  the  entire  circle  of 
related  qualities  now  under  discussion  His  great  powers 
both  as  a  Humorist  and  as  a  Wit  were  subservient  to  his 
work  as  a  political  writer  in  a  wide  sense.  He  was  also 
distinguished  as  a  man  of  society  ;  and  many  of  his  recorded 
witticisms  were  thrown  off  in  the  course  of  conversation. 
They  seldom  exemplified  pure  word-play ;  they  were  usually 
mixed  up  with  ingenuity  in  the  turn  of  the  thought,  and 
were  not  to  be  imitated  but  by  an  equal  force  of  genius.  As 
an  example  of  the  simple  pun,  we  have  his  illustration  of  the 
selfishness  of  Englishmen  by  the  remark  that  they  were  dis- 
tinguished more  for  the  love  of  their  specie  than  for  the  love 
of  their  species. 

His  more  usual  style  is  the  invention  of  situations,  cir- 
cumstances and  illustrations,  of  a  kind  to  enforce  his  views, 
by  their  extravagant,  or  otherwise  ridiculous  character.  The 
originality  suffices  to  give  interest  and  piquancy ;  and  the 
aptness  drives  the  lesson  home.  The  following  is  a  charac- 
teristic specimen  : — 

"  We  are  terribly  afraid  that  some  Americans  spit  upon 


276  WIT    EXEMPLIFIED, 

the  floor,  even  when  that  floor  is  covered  by  good  carpets. 
Now  all  claims  to  civilization  are  suspended  till  this  secre- 
tion is  otherwise  disposed  of.  No  English  gentleman  has 
spit  upon  the  floor  since  the  Heptarchy." 

To  take  another  example  : — 

"  Eailroad  travelling  is  a  delightful  improvement  of 
human  life.  Man  is  become  a  bird ;  he  can  fly  longer  and 
quicker  than  a  Solan  goose.  The  mamma  rushes  sixty 
miles  in  two  hours  to  the  aching  finger  of  her  conjugating 
and  declining  grammar  boy.  The  early  Scotchman  scratches 
himself  in  the  morning  mists  of  the  North,  and  has  his  por- 
ridge in  Piccadilly  before  the  setting  sun.  The  Puseyite 
priest,  after  a  rush  of  a  hundred  miles,  appears  w'ith  his 
little  volume  of  nonsense  at  the  breakfast  of  his  bookseller." 

His  handling  of  the  Deluge  is  equally  characteristic  of 
his  ingenuity  in  devising  extreme  illustrations  : — 

"  It  appears,  also,  that  from  thence  (the  Deluge)  a  great 
alteration  was  made  in  the  longevity  of  mankind,  who,  from 
a  range  of  seven  or  eight  hundred  years,  which  they  enjoyed 
before  the  flood,  were  confined  to  their  present  period  of 
seventy  or  eight}^  years.  This  epoch  in  the  history  of  man 
gave  birth  to  the  twofold  division  of  the  antediluvian  and 
tlie  postdiluvian  style  of  writing,  the  latter  of  which  natu- 
rally contracted  itself  into  those  inferior  limits  which  were 
better  accommodated  to  the  abridged  duration  of  human  life 
aijd  literary  labour.  Now,  to  forget  this  event, — to  write 
without  the  fear  of  the  deluge  before  his  eyes,  and  to  handle 
a  subject  as  if  mankind  could  lounge  over  a  pamphlet  for 
ten  years,  as  before  their  submersion, — is  to  be  guilty  of  the 
most  grievous  error  into  which  a  writer  can  possibly  fall." 

In  the  Pennsylvanian  Letters,  all  his  power  of  illustra- 
tion w^as  used  for  invective,  of  which  these  letters  still 
remain  one  of  our  best  modern  examples. 

Of  the  Court  of  Chancery  he  said — it  '  was  like  a  boa- 
constrictor,  which  swallowed  up  the  estates  of  English  gen- 
tlemen in  haste,  and  digested  them  at  leisure '. 

One  of  his  greatest  efforts  to  set  forth  the  comic  side  of 
Oddity,  is  his  account  of  the  Natural  History  of  Botany 
Bay:- 

"  In  this  remote  part  of  the  earth,  nature  (having  made 
horses,  oxen,  ducks,  geese,  oaks,  elms,  and  all  regular  and 
useful  productions,  for  the  rest  of  the  world)  seems  deter- 
mined  to   have   a  bit  of  play,   and  amuse  herself  as  she 


DOUGLAS   JEREOLD. — THE    lEISH   BULL.  277 

pleases.  Accordingly,  she  makes  cherries  with  the  stone  on 
the  outside,  and  a  monstrous  animal  as  tall  as  a  grenadier, 
with  the  head  of  a  rabbit,  a  tail  as  big  as  a  bedpost, 
hopping  along  at  the  rate  of  five  hops  to  a  mile,  with  three 
or  four  young  kangaroos  looking  out  of  its  false  uterus  to 
see  what  is  passing.  Then  comes  a  quadruped  as  big  as  a 
large  cat,  with  the  eyes,  colour  and  skin  of  a  mole,  and  the 
bill  and  webfeet  of  a  duck — puzzling  Dr.  Shaw,  and  render- 
ing the  latter  half  of  his  life  miserable,  from  the  utter 
inability  to  determine  whether  it  was  a  bird  or  a  beast. 
Add  to  this  a  parrot,  with  the  eyes  of  a  sea-gull ;  a  skate, 
with  the  head  of  a  shark ;  and  a  bird  of  such  monstrous 
dimensions,  that  a  side  bone  of  it  will  dine  three  real  carni- 
vorous Englishmen ;  together  with  many  other  productions 
that  agitate  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  and  fill  him  with  mingled 
emotions  of  distress  and  delight." 

The  personalities  at  the  expense  of  Dr.  Shaw  and  Sir 
Joseph  Banks  are  typical  of  the  best  kind  of  humour — the 
infliction  of  a  kind  of  pain  that  is  real  in  its  way,  but  devoid 
of  positive  harm. 

The  writings  and  sayings  of  Douglas  Jerrold  exemplify 
nearly  all  the  round  of  witty  effects,  and  are  a  sufficient 
repertory  for  testing  both  the  definition  and  the  rhetorical 
canons  of  legitimate  wit.  The  general  tendency  of  his  wit, 
as  of  nearly  all  wit,  is  depreciatory,  but  he  could  also  use  it 
in  the  enforcement  of  a  truth.  His  observation  upon  the 
work  of  a  certain  painter,  described  as  mediocre,  was — '  The 
worst  ochre  that  an  artist  can  paint  with '.  * 

The  Irish  Bull  is  a  form  of  wit,  accompanied  with 
humour.  Its  original  start  was  intellectual  weakness  or 
incapacity,  such  as  belongs  to  children  and  the  inferior 
races.  It  is  now  a  cultivated  art ;  by  the  support  of  inven- 
tion, it  has  been  found  capable  of  supplying  endless 
touches  of  amusement,  and  even  telling  illustrations  in 
oratory. 

In  one  form,  it  is  a  failure  (real  or  assumed)  to  see  the 
higher  or  technical  and  acquired  meanings  of  language. 
An  accused  party  is   asked   whether  he   is  guilty   or  not 

*  The  best  collection  of  Jeirold's  conversational  witticisms  may  be  fonnd  in 
jNIark  Lemon's  Jut-Book— wa.  admirable  collection  of  witty  sayings  from  many  sources. 


278  WIT   EXEMPLIFIED. 

guilty,  and  replies,  '  That  is  for  you  to  find  out  .  Another 
answers  to  the  same  question :  '  I  must  hear  the  evidence 
first '.  There  is  a  real  or  affected  ignoring  of  the  technical 
purpose  of  the  interrogation. 

The  intellectual  deficiency  takes  also  the  shape  of  inca- 
pacity to  grasp  an  entire  situation  :  as  when  a  patient  com- 
plained to  his  Doctor  that  an  emetic  would  not  stay  on  his 
stomach  ;  the  exceptional  character  of  the  drug  being  pur- 
posely misconceived. 

The  keeping  out  of  view  correlative  or  implied  circum- 
stances is  a  frequent  form  of  the  Bull.  The  proposal  to 
lengthen  a  blanket  by  cutting  off  a  piece  from  the  bottom  to 
sew  it  to  the  top,  is  a  familiar  illustration.  So,  a  cell  has 
so  low  a  ceiling  that  you  cannot  stand  up  in  it  without 
lying  down.  In  Logic,  there  is  a  class  of  Fallacies  of  Ee- 
lativity,  which  would  comprise  a  large  number  of  Bulls. 

Glaring  self-contradiction  is  one  pervading  character  of 
Irish  wit.  Edgeworth,  in  his  Essay  on  Bulls,  popularized 
this  anecdote.  Some  one  engaged  in  writing  a  letter,  being 
overlooked,  concluded  in  the  words — '  I  w^ould  say  more,  but 
a  tall  Irishman  is  reading  over  my  shoulder  every  word  I 
write'.     '  You  lie,  you  scoundrel,'  said  the  Irishman. 

America  rejoices  in  an  unlimited  production  of  Humour 
and  Wit.  Washington  Irving  took  the  lead.  Sam  Slick  had 
a  run  in  the  last  generation.  Lowell  is  distinguished  for 
witty  Satire.  Artemus  Ward  is  a  perpetual  fountain  of 
oddities.  Mark  Twain  illustrates  most  of  the  devices  of 
Humour,  but  he  employs  with  special  frequency  the  method 
of  making  himself  the  object  of  ludicrous  degradation.  It 
is  his  way  also  to  convey  interesting  information  and  shrewd 
reflections,  though  expressed  in  ways  to  provoke  laughter ; 
as  in  his  records  of  travel.  In  the  miscellaneous  outpouring 
of  humour  in  the  daily  newspapers,  the  pun  outnumbers 
every  other  form ;  and  the  effect  is  in  an  equal  proportion 
derogatory. 

Kincherhocker's  Hl^ttory  of  New  Yorl:,  saj^s  Professor 
Nichol,  'in  point  of  pui-e  originality,  Irving's  masterpiece, 
is  one  of  the  richest  farragos  of  fact,  fancy  and  irony  that 
have  ever  issued  from  the  press '. 

Lowell's  Bi'jlow  Pa)icrs  are  perpetual  coruscations  of 
Wit ;  but  the  underlying  object  is  not  enough  concealed  : 
the  author  is  too  obviously  a  partisan,  and,  what  is  still 


AMERICAN   HUMOUE   AND   WIT.  279 

worse,  a  moralist.  In  his  new  volume,  Heartease  and  Rue, 
there  is  the  following  on  a  dinner-speech  : — 

'Tis  a  time  for  gay  fancies,  as  fleeting  and  vain 

As  the  whisper  of  foam-beads  on  fresh-poured  champagne, 

Since  dinners,  perhaps,  were  not  strictly  designed 

For  mancEuvering  the  heavy  dragoons  of  the  mind. 

When  I  hear  your  set  speeches  that  start  with  a  pop, 

Then  wander  and  maunder,  too  feeble  to  stop, 

With  a  vague  apprehension  from  popular  rumour 

There  used  to  be  somethmg  by  mortals  called  humour, 

Beginning  again  when  you  thought  they  were  done, 

Respectable,  sensible,  weighing  a  ton. 

And  as  near  to  the  present  occasions  of  men 

As  a  Fast-Day  discourse  of  the  year  eighteen-ten  ; 

I — well,  I  sit  still,  and  my  sentiments  smother. 

For  am  not  I  also  a  bore  and  a  brother  ? 

The  denunciation  and  satire  is  relieved  by  the  two  last  lines 
where  he  includes  himself.  (See  Professor  Nichol's  review 
of  the  American  Wits  and  Humorists,  and  his  criticism  of 
Emerson  and  Lowell  in  particular.) 


MELODY. 

1.  The  Melody  or  Music  of  Language  involves 
both  the  Voice  and  the  Ear. 

What  is  hard  to  pronounce  is  not  only  disagreeable  as  a 
vocal  effort,  but  also  painful  to  listen  to. 

2.  Of  the  letters  of  the  Alphabet,  the  abrupt  con- 
sonants are  the  most  difdcult  to  utter ;  the  vowels,  the 
easiest. 

As  in  movements  generally,  so  with  the  voice,  a  sudden 
jerk  or  stoppage  is  painful.  The  most  jerky  of  all  the  let- 
ters are  the  sharp  mutes — p,  t,  k.  Next  are  their  aspirated 
forms—/,  th  (thin),  h.  The  corresponding  flat  mutes  are — 
b,  V ;  d,  th  (thy)  ;  q  :  these  are  still  easier,  as  allowing  con- 
tinuance of  the  voice ;  the  sudden  check  is  absent.  Thus, 
above  is  easier  than  pzd,  puff ;  gather  than  cut,  heath. 

The  liquids,  /,  m,  n,  ng,  r,  and  the  sibilants,  s,  sh,  z,  zh, 
are  all  continuous  sounds,  approaching  in  this  respect  to  the 
vowels ;  while  lo  and  y  are  a  kind  of  consonant  vowels. 
There  is  no  abruptness  in  rain,  loom,  sing,  shame,  leisure. 
The  Greek  and  Eoman  languages  (the  Greek  more)  showed 
a  preference  for  the  flat  nmtes,  the  liquids  and  the  sibi- 
lants ;  and,  for  the  most  part,  softened  the  sharp  mutes, 
especially  p,  t,  k,  by  combination  with  the  more  flowing 
letters,  as  clepsydra,  prurient. 

3.  Words  being  made  up  of  alternate  vowels  and 
consonants,  either  singly,  or  in  combinations,  the  more 
abrupt  consonants  are  most  easily  pronounced  when 
single,  and  when  alternating  with  long  vowels.  They 
then  favour  rapidity  of  movement. 

The  words  picket,  capit<d,  alternate  sharp  mutes  and 
short  vowels  ;  the  presence  of  one  or  more  long  vowels  gives 
greater  ease  to  the  voice,  as  in  tapioca,  tape,  peat. 


ARRANGEMENT   OF   LETTERS   AND   SYLLABLES.  281 

The  un-abrupt  consonants — flat  mutes,  liquids  and 
sibilants — are  easiest  with  long  vowels. 

Compare  lame  with  lemov,  rouse  with  russet.     So  azure,  fire. 

4.  As  regards  both  individual  words  and  successions 
of  words,  the  easiest  arrangement,  generally  speaking, 
is  to  alternate  a  single  consonant  and  a  single  vowel : 
— as,  recitahility,  inmiical,  a  lazy  hoy,  a  good  analysis,  a 
palinode. 

The  more  complex  arrangements  arise  by  accumulation 
of  Consonants  and  Vowels. 

(1)  Clash  and  Cumulation  of  Consonants.  This  occurs 
in  three  forms  : — 

{a)  The  union  of  sharp  mutes  with  liquids  and  sibilants  : 
as  trifle,  first,  risk,  proclaim. 

This  contributes  to  ease  of  pronunciation.  The  abrupt- 
ness of  the  sharp  mutes  disappears  in  the  fusion  with  a 
continuing  sound. 

Even  this  form  of  coalescence  rather  adds  to  the  diffi- 
culty of  pronouncing  short  vowels  :  pat  is  easier  than  pixit. 
On  the  other  hand,  with  long  vowels,  the  arrangement  gives 
birth  to  our  most  agreeable  combinations :  prayer,  clivih, 
break,  flower. 

(h)  The  union  of  two  sharp  mutes :  as  riipfure.  This 
makes  pronunciation  difficult.  Still  worse  is  the  combina- 
tion of  the  corresponding  pair  of  sharp  and  fiat  mutes  :  as 
up  by. 

Even  an  intervening  vowel,  if  short,  does  not  make  this 
vocal  effort  easy,  as  may  be  seen  in  pab,  reg,  tod.  It  takes 
either  a  long  vowel,  or  union  with  a  liquid  or  sibilant,  to 
overcome  the  pain  of  the  exertion. 

The  farther  cumulation  is  carried,  the  greater  the  effort 
in  pronouncing ;  qualified  only  by  the  fusion  with  the  con- 
tinuous consonants.  The  name  Aitkman  is  pronounceable 
with  great  difficulty,  Volkmann  is  easier.  Swift's  Brobdir/- 
naf/ian  is  purposely  made  hard  to  pronounce.  Triple  combi- 
nations in  general  are  necessarily  trying  to  the  voice : 
scratched,  strengthened,  twelflhly,  pabst,  conchs,  bankrupd. 

Similarly,  a  series  of  polysyUables  is  usually  objection- 
able :  it  can  hardly  be  melodious  in  the  unforced  pronounc- 
ing of  prose,  because  the  proportion  of  unaccented  syllables 
is  too  high  to  be  easy.  In  ordinary  cases,  the  rule  for 
melody  is  to  alternate  long  and  short  words. 


282  MELODY. 

Keats  has  this  instance  :  "  Thou  seem'dsi  my  sister". 

{c)  A  syllable  break,  and  the  pause  between  two  words, 
are  valuable  in  lightening  the  vocal  effort.  In  this  way,  even 
four  consonants  may  come  together  :  prii'stcruft  friumphdnt  is 
pronounceable  by  taking  advantage  of  the  syllable  and  word 
pauses. 

When  the  same  consonant  ends  one  word  and  begins 
another,  the  effect  is  harsh  :  keep  jjeople^  come  more,  brief  fate, 
hear  right,  dress  sins. 

The  effort  is  easier  according  as  the  two  differ :  hriff 
'petition,  cut  dead,  let  these,  come^iz)  soft,  marine  stores. 

A  liquid  and  a  mute,  or  two  different  liquids,  are  pro- 
nounced without  difficulty ;  being  next  in  point  of  ease  to 
the  alternation  of  vowel  and  consonant.* 

(2)  Clash  and  cumulation  of  vowels.  The  disagreeable 
effect  thus  produced  is  known  as  hiatus  ;  to  avoid  it  between 
words,  the  elision  of  the  first  vowel  was  practised  in  Latin 
verse. 

Whether  inside  a  word,  or  between  one  word  and 
another,  the  clash  of  vowels  is  disagreeable.  The  worst 
case  is  the  concurrence  of  the  same  vowel :  as  co-operate, 

*  The  importance  for  purposes  of  Melody  of  avoiding  the  cumulation  of 
consonants  may  be  enforced  by  the  practice  of  Milton,  as  shown  in  the  following 
quotatiiin  from  Professor  Masson  : — 

"  Milton  evidently  made  a  study  of  that  quality  of  style  which  Bentham  called 
'pronunciability  '.  His  fine  ear  )iot  only  taught  him  to  seek  for  musical  effects  and 
cadences  at  large,  but  also  to  be  fastidious  as  to  syllables,  and  to  avtiid  harsh  or 
ditficult  conjunctions  of  consonants,  except  when  there  might  be  a  musical  reason 
for  harshness  or  difficulty.  In  the  management  of  the  letter  s,  the  frequency  of 
whicii  in  English  is  one  of  the  faults  of  the  speech,  he  will  be  found,  I  believe,  most 
careful  and  skilful.  iMore  rarely,  I  think,  than  in  Shakespeare  will  one  word  ending 
in  s  he  found  followed  immediately  in  Milton  by  another  word  beginning  with  the 
same  letter  ;  or,  if  he  does  occasionally  pen  such  a  phrase  as  '  Moab's  sons,'  it  will 
be  difficult  to  find  in  him,  I  believe,  such  a  harsher  example  as  tartk's  suhstauce,  of 
wliich  many  writers  would  think  nothing.  The  same  delicacy  of  ear  is  even  more 
apparent  in  hismanagoaient  of  the.</i  .sound,  lie  has  it  often,  of  course  ;  but  it  may 
be  noted  that  he  rejects  it  in  his  verse  when  he  can.  He  writes  B((.'<nn  for  Bnshan 
(/'.  X.,  I.  .'{98),  SiUim  for  Hliittna  (P.  L.,  I.  41::!),  Silnh  for  Shilok  {S.  A.,  1G74),  Asdoil  for 
Anhdmi  (S.  A.,  981),  &c.  Still  more,  however,  does  he  seem  to  have  been  wary  of  the 
compound  sound  ch  as  in  chi'rcfi.  Of  his  sensitiveness  to  this  sound  in  excess  there 
is  a  curious  proof  in  his  prose  pamphlet  entitled  An  Apr>lori>i  against  a  Pamphlet  caUed 
a  MndfH  Cunt  Illation,  Ac,  where,  having  occasion  to  quote  these  lines  from  one  of 
the  Satires  of  Lis  opponent,  Bishop  Hall, 

'  Teach  each  hollow  grove  to  sound  his  love, 
Wearying  echo  with  one  changeless  word,' 
he  adds,  ironically,  '  and  so  he  well  might,  and  all  his  auditory  besides,  with  his 
tearh  euch!'    There  can  he  little  doubt,  I  think,  that  it  was  to  avoid  this  teach  each 
that  he  took  the  liberty  of  Miltonizing  the  good  old  English  word  vouchsafe  into 
voulmi'e"  (Masson's  Millnti,  \ol.  I.,  p.  li\-.). 

Vet  Milton  permits  liimself  to  u.se  the  following  remarkable  succession  of 
Bibilants ; — 

Seems  wisest,  virtuou.?e«t,  discreete.«t,  best. 

—{Par.  Lost,  VIII.  550.) 


CONDITION   OF   VAKIETY,  283 

you  unifp,  potato  only,  blow  over,  Maria  Ann.  The  difficulty 
is  mitigated  according  as  the  vowels  differ,  but  is  never 
quite  removed.  Examples :  poet,  bowels,  idea,  hiatus,  create, 
re-assume,  co-equal,  lively  oracles,  pity  us.  Compare  my  idea 
also  of  it,  with  my  notion  at  any  rate. 

In  the  clash  of  vowels,  it  is  better  that  one  should 
be  short  and  the  other  long,  or  one  emphatic  and  the  other 
not :  as  go  on,  the  ear.  "When  the  precedes  an  unemphatic 
syllable  (beginning  with  a  vowel),  we  are  obliged  to  make  it 
emphatic,  tlie  endeavour. 

Long  vowels  out  of  accent  need  an  effort  to  pronounce  : 
contribute,  Portugal,  reprobate,  n-idoio.  A  pause  or  prolonga- 
tion helps  us  out  of  the  difficulty  ;  and,  accordingly,  we  feel 
disposed  to  pronounce  such  words  with  greater  deliberation  : 
as  in  holiday,  palinode. 

The  melodious  flow  of  speech  is  dependent  upon  the 
lengthening  out  of  the  pronunciation  through  the  presence 
of  long  vowels  and  continuing  consonants.  Eapidity  and 
ease  can  be  given  by  the  alternation  of  abrupt  consonants 
and  short  vowels;  but  it  is  hardly  possible  to  introduce 
musical  tone  without  the  means  of  delaying  and  prolonging 
the  vocal  strain ;  as  may  be  seen  from  the  examples  at 
large.  Our  language  cannot  be  continuously  intoned  like 
the  Italian. 

5.  The  sounds  of  speech  are  no  exception  to  the 
demand  for  Variety. 

Our  alphabet  may  be  said  to  contain  23  consonants,  14 
vowels  in  accent,  with  the  same  out  of  accent,  and  diph- 
thongs. The  richness  in  vowels  is  unusual.  The  Latin 
language  possesses  only  five  vowels,  while  these  are  desti- 
tute of  our  variations  of  long  and  short.  The  first  stanza  of 
Gray's  'Elegy'  nearly  exhausts  the  copiousness  of  our  vowel 
range,  and  is  correspondingly  agreeable  to  the  ear. 

So  imperious  is  the  demand  for  variety,  that  even  the 
difficult  and  harsh  combinations  of  letters  may  be  brought 
in  as  an  agreeable  variety,  after  a  succession  of  smooth  and 
liquid  sounds.  Monotony  in  sweetness  is  the  most  painful 
of  all. 

The  term  Alliteration  is  employed  to  signify  the  com- 
mencing of  successive  words  with  the  same  letter  or  syllable. 
Unless  when  carried  out  on  a  set  purpose,  it  offends  the 


284  MELODY. 

ear :  as  long  live  Lewis,  come  conqueror,  convenient  contrivance. 

The  horn  of  the  hunter  is  heard  on  the  hill. 

Equally  unpleasing  are  iterations  within  words  or  at  the  end 
of  words :  indulgent  parent,  uniform  formality,  instead  of  a 
steady :  he  is  tempted  to  attempt. 

Even  a  short  interval  is  not  enough  to  allow  the  repeti- 
tion of  very  marked  sounds  :  as  '  I  confess  with  humility, 
the  sterility  of  my  fancy,  and  the  debility  of  my  judgment '. 
'  What  is  of  more  importance,  the  principles  being  pro- 
pounded with  reverence,  had  an  influence  on  the  subsequent 
jurisprudence.'  '  The  art  of  politics  consists,  or  would  con- 
sist if  it  existed ; '  '  taking  such  directions  as  to  awaken 
pleasing  recollections.' 

One  legitimate  use  of  alliteration  is  to  lend  emphasis 
and  to  impress  the  meaning :  as,  good  government ;  sense 
and  sensibility;  cribb'd,  cabin'd  and  confined;  sad  and 
slow;  a  heart  to  resolve,  a  head  to  combine,  and  a  hand 
to  execute  ;  resolved  to  ruin  or  to  rule  the  state ;  waste 
not,  want  not. 

Ehymes  and  other  similarities  of  sound  are  used  for  the 
same  purpose;  as,  the  fame  of  your  name;  mend  it  or 
end  it ;  Trinity  in  Unity.* 

It  is  also  an  effect  in  poetry,  as  in  Shelley's  '  Cloud '. 
"When  expected,  it  falls  under  a  mode  of  pleasure,  the  plea- 
sure of  regularity.     (See  Alliteration.) 

In  English,  the  endings  ion,  ing,  ity,  ly,  nee,  and  ed,  are 
unavoidably  frequent ;  and  it  is  desirable  to  obviate  the  con- 
sequent repetition  and  monotony.  The  verb  ending  ed 
painfully  recurs  ;  hence  the  value  of  our  small  number  of 
old  verbs  as  a  relief :  '  given  and  received ' ;  '  I  came,  I  saw, 
I  conquered'. 

The  following  are  additional  examples  including  various 
kinds  of  disagreeable  iteration  of  sound  : — '  That  is  a/so 
aZtered'.  '  It  was  Peel  that  repeated  the  Corn  Laws.'  '  He 
unitated  it  at  once.'  '  An  ignorant  impatience  of  the  relaxa- 
ii(ni  of  taxation.'  '  To  permanently  impair  the  power  of  the 
Peers.' 

Keats  has  the  phrase  '  the  icinowing  tcind  ' — a  threefold 

*  The  rationale  of  this  use  of  Alliteration  is  that  it  aids  in  pointing;  some  con- 
trast or  accentuating  some  lialance  ;  whereas,  in  the  absence  of  any  such  occasion 
for  it,  its  presence  is  (lisK;;ric,il>le,  as  jii^'HR  tlie  ear  the  form  of  pointing  and  ac- 
centuation, while  disap|Miiuting  the  mind  of  the  contrast  or  balance  in  meaning 
usually  associated  with  luim. 


ALTEENATION    IN    EMPHASIS    AKD    LENGTH.  285 

iteration  of  syllables  nearly  the  same.     In  Johnson's  line — ■ 

To  buried  merit  raise  the  tardy  bust — 
there  is  monotony  of  vowels  and  similarity  of  consonants. 

6.  As  rec^jards  both  the  succession  of  Syllables  in  the 
same  word,  and  the  succession  of  words  in  the  sentence, 
an  additional  circumstance  comes  into  play ;  namely, 
the  due  alternation  of  emphatic  and  unemphatic,  and 
of  long  and  short. 

As  our  language  usually  admits  of  but  one  primary 
accent  in  a  word,  words  of  many  syllables  are  usually  hard 
to  pronounce  ;  hence  we  avoid  lengthening  words  by 
numerous  prefixes  or  endings  :  unsuccassfulness,  ■piiremptori- 
ness,  wronglieadedness,  err  in  this  respect. 

Words  containing  a  string  of  unaccented  short  vowels 
are  a  trial  to  the  voice ;  as  primarily,  cursorily,  summarily, 
derisorily.  Still  worse  is  the  repetition  of  the  same  letter  or 
syllable:  a.'S,  farriery ,  loiclily,  holily,  semhlahle.  The  difficulty 
is  in  many  cases  relieved  by  the  introduction  of  a  secondary 
accent.  For  e^&xa^Xe, pronunciation,  crystallization,  secondarily, 
have  such  a  secondary  accent  on  the  syllables  mm,  crys,  ar, 
and  the  result  is  to  render  the  utterance  of  the  words  much 
easier.  Valudessness  is  a  disagreeable  word  :  it  has  many 
unaccented  syllables,  alliteration  of  syllables,  and  similarity 
of  sounds. 

This  circumstance  has  important  bearings  on  the  melody 
of  composition,  both  prose  and  verse;  in  English  verse, 
indeed,  it  is  the  greatest  part  of  the  science,  as  will  be 
seen  presently.  This  is  so,  because  the  alternate  stress 
and  remission  of  the  voice  is  essential  to  easy  and  agree- 
able pronunciation.  It  is  the  effect  that  is  referred  to  by 
the  term  rhythm,  whether  in  verse  or  in  prose.  The  four 
modes  of  accented  and  unaccented,  long  and  short,  give  both 
alternation  and  variation.  In  the  line — '  The  pomp  and 
circumstance  of  glorious  war ' — there  is  an  alternation  of  the 
accented  and  unaccented  syllables,  and  a  further  contrast  in 
the  long  vowels  of  the  two  last  words  ;  while  the  succession 
of  vowels  and  consonants,  and  the  variety  of  both,  enhance 
the  melody. 

In  the  following  sentences  the  disagreeable  effect  of  allite- 
ration is  increased  by  the  closeness  of  the  accented  syllables : 
— '  It  stood  on  a  rocky  peninsula,  round  wliich  the  waves  of 


286  MELODY. 

the  hay  broke  '  (Macaulay).  '  The  party  will  advocate  large 
local  liberties.'  So  with  other  iterations  of  sound  ;  for  in- 
stance, '  Here  it'  is  impossible  even  to  ^\xg(jest  judiiying  il- 
lustrations '. 

It  is  from  the  want  of  this  due  alternation  that  a  series 
of  monosyllables  is  usually  objectionable  :  as  '  good  Lord 
give  us  bread  now ' :  where,  except  '  us,'  every  word  is 
under  emphasis,  rendering  the  pronunciation  heavy.  If, 
however,  there  be  an  even  distribution  of  un emphatic  words, 
the  bad  effect  does  not  arise.  '  Bless  the  Lord  of  hosts,  for 
He  is  good  to  us,'  is  not  unmelodious ;  every  second  word 
is  unaccented.     So  in  '  Macbeth ' : — 

Stars,  hide  your  fires, 
Let  not  light  see  my  black  and  deep  desires, 
The  eye  wink  at  the  hand.     Yet  let  that  be. 
Which  the  eye  fears,  when  it  is  done,  to  see. 

In  ordinary  cases,  melody  arises  through  the  alternation 
of  long  and  short  words.  A  string  of  long  words  is  seldom 
melodious. 

7.  The  Close  of  a  Sentence  should  allow  the  voice 
to  fall  by  degrees. 

This  happens  when  the  concluding  syllable  is  long,  and 
when  it  ends  with  a  continuing  consonant,  as  decree,  appear. 
"With  a  short  vowel,  there  is  still  more  necessity  for  con- 
tinuing consonants  to  follow :  as  mankind,  forth,  world. 
'  The  age  of  chivalry  is  gone '  has  an  emphatic  and  sonorous 
close  ;  '  got '  would  be  intolerable. 

Another  admissible  close  is  by  one  or  more  unemphatic 
syllables :  as  liberty.  '  A  mockery,  a  delusion,  and  a  snare,' 
gives  a  triplet  of  words  all  suited  to  close  a  sentence. 

Very  long  words  do  not  make  a  melodious  close  :  as 
intimidation ,  irresistible. 

The  worst  kind  of  ending  is  an  emphatic  syllable  with 
a  short  vowel  and  an  abrupt  consonant :  as  '  he  came  up'. 
A  monosyllable  is  not  necessarily  a  bad  close.  It  may  be 
unemphatic,  as  often  happens  with  the  pronoun  'it,'  and 
with  the  prepositions,  '  of,'  '  to,'  '  for,'  &c. ;  or  it  may  have 
liquid  or  other  consonants  that  protract  the  sound :  as  ease, 
same,  shine.  '■' 

*  The  biographer  of  Roliert  Hall  gives  the  following  anecdote  in  connexion 
with  tlie  printing  of  his  famous  sonnon  on  Modern  lutidelity.  After  writing  down 
the  striking  apostrophe— '  Eternal  God  !  on  what  are  Tliine"  enemies  intent!  what 
are  those  enterprises  of  guilt  and  horror,  that,  for  the  safety  of  their  perforraers, 


EEGULAR   RECUREENCE    OF    PAUSES.  287 

8.  With  the  view  to  a  good  melodious  effect,  the 
pauses  of  the  voice  must  recur  with  some  measure  of 
regularity  in  the  sentences. 

This  is  of  great  importance  in  verse  ;  but  it  has  also  a 
place  in  the  melody  of  prose,  though  impossible  to  be  re- 
duced to  rule. 

A  certain  measure  of  balance  is  required  in  the  length  of 
the  clauses,  or  other  portions  divided  by  the  pauses  of  the 
voice.  In  particular,  the  last  clause  can  seldom  be  notably 
short  in  comparison  with  the  rest,  except  for  special  em- 
phasis. For  example  : — '  The  real  blemishes  will  soon  be 
detected  and  condemned  by,  we  may  hope,  a  tolerably 
unanimous  consent  of  the  best  scholars  ;  and  enumerated  '. 
The  ear  demands  a  longer  final  clause  to  balance  the  pre- 
ceding ;  thus  :  '  and,  let  us  hope,  they  will  be  fully  and 
carefully  enumerated  '. 

'  The  effect  will  be,  in  great  measure,  if  not  entirely, 
lost '  (Whately).  A  pause  is  required  after  'entirely,'  and 
hence  the  ear  expects  more  to  come  after  it  than  the  one 
word  '  lost '.  Try  a  lengthening  of  it,  and  relief  is  obtained  : 
'  lost  for  any  important  purpose  '. 

In  the  Balanced  Sentence,  there  is  a  pleasure  in  the 
sound  as  well  as  in  the  meaning.* 

Examples. 

Johnson  says,  '  Tediousness  is  the  most  fatal  of  all 
faults'.  The  stiffness  of  this  sentence  is  felt  at  once.  On 
examination,  we  note,  1st,  The  want  of  melody  in  the  word 
'  tediousness,'  from  the  crowd  of  consonants,  the  vowel 
hiatus,  and  the  iteration  of  s.  2nd,  The  additional  hiss- 
ing consonant  in  'is'.      3rd,   The  occurrence   of  five   un- 

require  to  be  enveloped  in  a  darkness  which  the  eye  of  heaven  must  not  penetrate !' 
—he  asked,  '  Did  I  say  peneliate,  Sir,  when  I  preached  it  ?'  '  Yes  '  '  Do  you  think, 
Sir,  I  may  venture  to  alter  it?  for  no  man  who  considered  the  force  of  the  English 
language  would  use  a  word  of  three  syllables  there,  but  from  absolute  neceasity.' 
'  You  are  doubtless  at  liberty  to  alter  it,  if  you  tliink  well.'  '  Then  be  so  good,  Sir, 
to  take  your  pencil,  and  for  penetrate  put  pierce  ;  inerce  is  the  word,  Sir,  and  the  only 
word  to  be  used  there.' 

*  When  the  language  of  prose  becomes  more  elevated,  and  so  approaches  to 
poetry,  there  is  a  tendency  to  make  the  accents  folkiw  in  more  regular  succession. 
Take  this  sentence  from  Kohert  Hall  :— '  From  myriads  of  humlile,  contrite  hearts, 
the  voice  of  intercession,  supplication,  and  weeping  will  mingle  in  its  ascent  to 
heaven  with  the  shouts  of  battle  and  the  shock  of  arms  '.  Here,  while  the  number 
of  syllables  between  the  accents  is  not  uniform,  as  in  poetry,  yet,  if  the  unaccented 
intervals  are  measured  by  the  time  occupied  in  good  reading,  it  will  be  found  that 
the  accents  recur  with  almost  perfect  regularity. 


288  MELODY   EXEMPIilFIED. 

emphatic  syllables  in  succession — namely,  the  last  three  in 
*  tediousness,'  and  'is  the':  it  might  also  be  said  that 
'most '  is  uuemphatic.  4th,  The  additional  *' in  most.  5th, 
The  concurrence  of  consonants  at  the  end  of  '  most '  and  the 
beginning  of  '  fatal '  :  this  cannot  always  be  avoided.  6th, 
The  alliterations  'fataZ  a//,'  '/atal/aults,'  '  all  faults,'  make 
the  last  few  words  singularly  unraelodious. 

'  So  loud  the  roar  rose  of  that  battle  of  gods.'  The 
stiffness  is  at  once  felt,  and  is  all  the  worse  in  a  sentence  of 
such  rhetorical  form,  where  musical  language  is  specially 
desirable.  The  collocation,  roar  rose,  is  specially  objection- 
able on  the  ground  of  alliteration  and  the  iteration  of  the 
same  vowel,  the  disagreeable  effect  being  aggravated  by  the 
fact  that  both  words  have  strong  emphasis  upon  them,  and 
no  unaccented  syllable. 

'  Why  thrusfst  thou  me  thee  fro  ? '  (Scotch  Metrical 
Psalms).  The  consonantal  combination  in  *  thrus^'*'^  if/iou ' 
is  exceptionally  harsh  from  the  nature,  similarity  and 
number  of  the  consonants.  The  vowel  repetition  in  *  me 
thee  '  increases  the  disagreeable  sound  ;  and  the  awkwardly 
inverted  and  abbre\nated  form,  'thee  fro,'  though  not  a  point 
of  melody,  completes  the  uncouthness. 

'  Amyas  stood  still  steering'  (Kingsley).  An  alliteration 
of  sibilants  is  the  most  disagreeable  of  all  ;  but  here  the 
effect  is  brought  into  marked  prominence  by  the  strong 
emphasis  on  each  word,  and  the  absence  of  unaccented 
syllables  between. 

Compare  Browning's  alliteration,  similarly  aggravated: — 

And  I— soon  managed  to  find 

Weak  points  in  the  flower — fence  facing 
Now  morning  from  her  orient  chamber  came 
And  her  first  footsteps  touch'd  a  verdant  hill. — (Keats.) 

In  these  lines  there  is  both  monotony  of  sounds  and  allitera- 
tion ;  '  morning  from  her  orient '  {o  the  only  accented 
vowel ;  consonants  in,  n,  r  repeated) ;  '  cha?«ber  caine  ' ; 
'first  footsto-ps  /ouched  '  (/  in  alliteration,  st  three  times) ; 
'  her  ilrst '.  There  is  heaviness  besides  in  the  accented 
syllaV)les  following  each  other  in  the  words  '  first  footsteps 
touch'd  '. 

Thomson,  speaking  of  the  city,  says  : — 

And,  stretching  street  on  street,  by  thousands  drew, 
From  twining  woody  haunts,  or  the  tougli  yew 
To  bows  strong-strauiuig,  her  aspiring  sous. 


NEWMAN. — KUSKIN.  289 

The  lines  are  heavy,  and  may  be  examined  with  reference 
both  to  rhythmical  succession  and  to  consonantal  combina- 
tions. 

In  the  two  following  verses,  we  may  note  both  the 
melodious  succession  of  the  alphabetical  sounds,  and  the 
vowel  variety  which  our  language  enables  us  to  compass : 
'  Truly  the  light  is  sweet,  and  a  pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the 
eyes  to  behold  the  sun '.  *  How  art  thou  fallen  from 
heaven,  O  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning.'  The  alternations  of 
vowel  and  consonant  here  are  favourable  to  melody ;  while, 
as  regards  variety,  nine  distinct  vowels  can  be  counted  in 
each.  The  authorized  version  of  the  Bible  derives  much  of 
its  charm  from  its  Melody. 

A  fine  melody  is  traceable  through  the  following  sen- 
tence from  Newman : — '  And  now  thy  very  face  and  form, 
dear  mother,  speak  to  us  of  the  Eternal ;  not  like  earthly 
beauty,  dangerous  to  look  upon,  but  like  the  morning  star, 
wdiich  is  thy  emblem,  bright  and  musical,  breathing  of 
purity,  telling  of  heaven  and  infusing  peace '.  So  with 
this : — '  Avoid,  I  say,  enquiry  else,  for  it  will  but  lead  you 
thither,  where  there  is  no  light,  no  peace,  no  hope ;  it  will 
lead  you  to  the  deep  pit,  where  the  sun,  and  the  moon,  and 
the  stars,  and  the  beauteous  heavens  are  not,  but  chilliness 
and  barrenness  and  perpetual  desolation'. 

Less  perfect,  but  still  notable,  is  the  flow  in  the  follow- 
ing sentence  from  Euskin  (the  analysis  of  its  strong  and 
w^eak  points  will  make  a  good  exercise) : — '  Paths  that  for 
ever  droop  and  rise  over  the  green  banks  and  mounds 
sweeping  down  in  scented  undulations,  steep  to  the  blue 
water  studded  here  and  there  with  new-mown  heaps,  filling 
all  the  air  with  fainter  sweetness, — look  up  towards  the 
higher  hills,  where  the  waves  of  everlasting  green  roll 
silently  into  their  long  inlets  among  the  shadows  of  the 
pines '. 

'  The  men  that  gave  their  country  liberty,'  is  melodi- 
ous from  the  variety  of  the  vowels  and  consonants,  and 
from  the  suitable  fall,  although  the  combination  '  tliat  gave  ' 
is  somewhat  heavy,  and  there  is  an  iteration  of  sound  in 
the  two  last  words. 

'  They  often  save,  and  always  illustrate,  the  age  and 
nation  in  which  they  appear,'  is  a  good  example  of  prose 
melody  from  the  alternation  of  accented  and  unaccented 
syllables ;  it  departs  from  the  strict  regularity  of  verse,  and 


290  MELODY   EXEMPLIFIED, 

yet  secures  an  easy  movement.  There  is  also  great  variety 
in  the  sounds,  and  an  unusual  avoidance  of  the  clash  of 
consonant  with  consonant,  and  of  vowel  with  vowel,  in  the 
succession  of  the  words. 

The  following  sentence  violates  nearly  all  the  rules : — 
'  Proud  and  vain-glorious,  swelled  with  lofty  anticipations 
of  his  destiny,  no  danger  could  appal  and  no  toil  tire 
him ' . 

The  expression — '  strikes  at  that  ethereal  and  soft 
essence,'  has  an  agreeable  effect  from  the  alternation  oi 
the  accent  (interrupted  only  in  '  soft  essence'),  and  from  the 
good  transitions  between  the  words. 

There  are  many  admired  passages  whose  beauty  lies 
chiefly  in  the  melody  of  the  words.  In  the  opening  stanza 
of  the  '  Battle  of  Copenhagen ' — 

Of  Nelson  and  the  North 

Sing  the  glorious  day's  renown. 
When  to  battle  fierce  went  forth 

All  the  might  of  Denmark's  crown — 

the  happy  poetic  inversion  and  the  emotional  keeping  of 
the  language  are  supported  and  enhanced  by  the  melody. 

A  considerable  part  of  the  effect  of  Macpherson's  Ossian 
depends  on  the  music  of  its  language,  which  is  often  very 
apparent. 

Milton's  '  old  man  eloquent '  is  a  stroke  of  mere  arrange- 
ment, with  a  melodious  effect. 

Jonson's  '  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes '  is  highly 
melodious ;  the  clash  of  the  two  iA's  is  an  exception,  but 
does  not  spoil  the  agreeable  lightness  of  the  movement. 

'  The  womb  of  uncreated  night '  is  one  of  Milton's 
melodious  arrangements. 

Keats  gives  many  studies  in  this  connexion.  For  ex- 
ample :  — 

Spenserian  vowels  that  elope  with  case. 

Tennyson's  couplet — 

Vex  not  thou  the  poet's  mind 
With  thy  shallow  wit — 

is,  for  liim,  unusually  thick  and  heavy  ;  the  explanation 
being  obvious.  The  fourfold  repetition  of  the  ///  sound  is 
aggravated  by  the  two  placings — '  thou  the,'  '  with  thy  '. 


IMITATION  OP  SOUNDS.  291 

HAEMONY  OF  SOUND  AND  SENSE. 

1.  It  is  possible  to  make  the  Sound  of  the  language 
an  echo  to  the  Sense. 

This  is  a  special  and  notable  instance  of  the  pervading 
principle  of  Harmony. 

2.  The  effect  is  most  easily  attained  when  the 
subject-matter  is  sound. 

Words,  being  themselves  sounds,  can  imitate  sounds. 
Our  language  (like  others)  contains  many  examples  of 
imitative  names,  as  'whizz,'  'buzz,'  'burr,'  'hiss,'  'crash,' 
'racket,'  'whistle,'  'splash,'  'wash,'  'scrunch,'  'munch,' 
'  thunder,'  'boom'. 

By  the  invention  of  such  words  Browning  imitates  very 
closely  the  sounds  of  the  drum  and  the  fife : — 

Bang-whang-whang  goes  the  drum,  and  tootU-te-tootle  the  fife. 
The  imitation  can  be  still  further  extended  in  a  suc- 
cession of  words.  Homer's  line,  near  the  beginning  of  the 
Iliad,  describing  the  sea,  is  celebrated  as  an  instance.  The 
'  hoarse  Trinacrian  shore '  is  a  similar  attempt,  one  of  many 
in  Milton.  The  grating  noise  of  the  opening  of  Hell's  gates 
is  described  thus  : — 

On  a  sudden  open  fly, 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound, 
The  infernal  doors  ;  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thimder. 

Contrast  the  opening  of  Heaven's  doors  : — 

Heaven  opened  wide 
Her  ever-during  gates,  harmonious  sound. 
On  golden  hinges  turning. 

Discordant  sounds  are  effectively  described  in  the  line 
from  '  Lycidas ' : — 

Grate  on  their  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw. 
The  sounds  of  a  battle  in  former  times  are  represented 
by  the  language  thus  : — 

Arms  on  armour  clashing,  bray'd 
Horrible  discord ;  and  the  maddening  wheels 
Of  brazen  fury  raged. 

The  following  is  from  Byron's  '  Falls  of  Terni '  : — • 
The  roar  of  waters  ! — from  the  headlong  height 
Vclino  cleaves  the  wave-worn  precipice  ; 
The  fall  of  waters  !  rapid  as  the  light 
The  flashing  mass  foams  shaking  the  abyss ; 


292  SOUND   AND    SENSE. 

The  hell  of  waters  !  where  they  howl  and  hiss, 
And  boil  in  endless  torture  ;  while  the  sweat 
Of  their  great  agony,  wrung  out  from  this 
Their  Phlegethon,  curls  round  the  rocks  of  jet 
That  gird  the  gulf  around,  in  pitiless  horror  set. 

And  mounts  in  spray  the  skies,  and  thence  again 
Kcturns  m  an  unceasing  shower,  which  round, 
With  its  unemptied  cloud  of  gentle  rain, 
Is  an  eternal  April  to  the  ground. 
Waking  it  all  one  emerald. 

Compare  the  well-known  lines  of  Southey  on  Lodore. 
By  the  use  of  sibilants  Whittier  suggests  the  ripple  on 
tbe  sea-shore  : — • 

And  so  beside  the  silent  sea 
I  wait  the  muffled  oar. 

Tennyson  describes  the  roaring  of  the  sea  by  the  reitera- 
tion of  the  letter  r : — 

Those  wild  eyes  that  watch  the  wave 
In  ?-oarings  round  the  coral  ?-eef. 

Poe  employs  the  sibilants  to  express  a  rustling  sound : — 

And  the  silken  sad  luicertain  rustling  of  each  purple  curtain, 

3.  Imitation  by  language  extends  to  movements. 

A  series  of  long  syllables,  or  of  words  under  accent,  with 
the  frequent  occurrence  of  the  voice-prolonging  consonants, 
being  necessarily  slow  to  pronounce,  is  appropriate  to  the 
description  of  slow  and  laboured  movement.  As  in  Pope's 
couplet  on  the  Iliad  : — 

When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 
The  lino  too  labours,  and  the  words  move  slow. 

Of  the  ten  syllables  in  the  first  line,  only  two  (when,  to) 
can  be  rapidly  pronounced  ;  all  the  rest,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  detain  the  voice.  In  the  second,  the  two  the's  are  the 
only  short  syllables.  Moreover,  the  clash  between  words  is 
retarding. 

The  opposite  arrangement — that  is  to  say,  an  abundance 
of  short  and  unaccented  syllables,  and  the  more  abrupt 
consonants  alternated  with  the  vowels,  by  making  the 
pronunciation  rapid,  light  and  easy,  corresponds  to  quick- 
ness of  motion  in  the  subject. 

This  harmony  is  finely  brought  out  by  Gray  in  the 
'  Ode  to  Spring'  : — 


EXPEESSION    OF    MOVEMENTS.  293 

Yet  hark  !  how  through  the  peopled  air 
The  busy  murmur  glows  ! 
The  insect  youth  are  on  the  wing, 
Eager  to  taste  the  honied  Sprhig, 
And  float  amid  the  liquid  noon  ; 
Some  hghtly  o'er  the  current  skim, 
Some  shew  their  gaily-gilded  trim, 
Quick-glancing  to  the  sun. 

The  lines  in  the  Iliad  describing  Sisyphus  are  an  admired 
example  in  the  Greek,  and  the  effect  is  aimed  at  by  the 
English  translators. 

With  many  a  weary  step,  and  many  a  groan. 

Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a  huge  round  stone  ; 

The  huge  round  stone  resulting  with  a  bound, 

Thunders  impetuous  do%vn,  and  smokes  along  the  ground. 

Up  to  the  middle  of  the .  third  line,  we  have  the  slow 
laborious  motion ;  then  the  change  to  the  rapid  and  im- 
petuous descent.     (See  Gladstone's  Homeric  Primer,  p.  143.) 

Besides  marking  the  difference  of  quick  and  slow,  the 
measure  of  language  may  indicate  various  modes  of  motion, 
as  in  the  expression  '  Troy's  turrets  tottered,'  where  there  is 
a  sort  of  resemblance  to  the  vibratory  action  of  a  building 
about  to  tumble. 

The  gliding  motion  of  the  clouds  is  expressed  by  the  use 
of  the  liquid  consonants  in  these  lines  of  Keats : — 

And  let  the  clouds  of  even  and  of  morn 
Float  in  voluptuous  fleeces  o'er  the  hills. 

Compare  a  similar  use  of  the  liquids  here  : — 

O  what  can  ail  thee,  knight-at-arms. 
Alone  and  palely  loitering  ? 

Here  Tennyson's  ingenuity  is  conspicuous.  The  move- 
ment of  a  wave  at  the  beach  is  described — 

Till  last,  a  ninth  one,  gathering  half  the  deep 
And  full  of  voices,  slowly  rose  and  plunged 
Eoaring. 

The  following  explains  itself : — 

Then  would  he  whistle,  rapid  as  any  lark. 
In  many  passages,  the  effect  combines  sound  and  motion, 
as: — 

Tumbling  all  precipitate  down  dash'd. 

So,  in  Pope's  famous  lines : — 

If  nature  thundered  in  our  opening  ears 

And  stunned  us  with  the  music  of  the  spheres. 


294:  SOUND   AND    SENSE. 

The  word  '  stunned,'  by  its  short  emphasis,  well  expresses 
the  effect  of  a  stunning  blow. 

Obstructed  movement  is  readily  responded  to  by  the 
march  of  the  language,  as  iu  the  second  of  the  lines  on 
Sisyphus. 

4.  Huge,  unwieldy  hdk  implies  slowness  of  move- 
ment, and  may  be  expressed  by  similar  language  : — 

O'er  all  the  dreary  coasts 
So  stretched  out,  huge  in  length,  the  arch-fiend  lay. 
But  ended  foul  in  many  a  scaly  fold 
Voluminous  and  vast. 

5.  It  is  through  combined  sound  and  movement 
that  language  can  harmonize  with  specific  feelings. 

This  element  of  poetic  beauty  appears  in  our  oldest 
poetry — notably  in  Homer. 

The  soothing  spirit  of  a  lullaby  is  expressed  by  Shake- 
speare through  the  use  of  the  liquid  consonants  : — 

Philomel,  with  melody, 
Sing  in  our  sweet  lullaby; 
Lulla,  lulla,  lullaby ;  luUa,  lulla,  lullaby ; 
Never  harm,  nor  spell  nor  charm. 
Come  our  lovely  lady  nigh  : 
So,  good  night,  with  lullaby. 

Goldsmith,  in  the  opening  line  of  the  Traveller,  suggests 
the  feeling  of  sadness  by  the  slow  movement  of  the  verse  : — 
Eemote,  unfriended,  melancholy,  slow. 

Wordsworth,  in  his  lines  '  At  the  Grave  of  Burns,'  aims 
at  the  same  effect  in  a  succession  of  heavy  syllables,  in- 
tensified by  a  strong  alliteration  : — 

Oh  !  spare  to  sweep,  thou  mournful  blast, 
His  grave  grass-grown. 

In  expressing  the  feeling  of  hopelessness,  Tennyson 
employs  a  harsh  rhythm,  the  harshness  increased  by 
alliteration : — 

And  ghastly  through  the  drizzling  rain 
On  the  bald  street  breaks  the  blank  day. 

The  different  measures  of  poetry  arc  suited  to  different 
passions.  Lively  movements  belong  to  cheerful  emotions, 
slow  movements  to  melancholy.  The  languishing  reluctance 
of  the  spirit  to  quit  the  earth  is  finely  expressed  in  the 
movement  of  Gray's  stanza,  beginning — 

For  who  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey  ? 


SOUND    HARMONIZING    WITH    FEELINGS.  295 

Tennyson  is  very  notable  for  his  skill  under  this  head. 
The  following  stanzas  are  from  '  A  Dream  of  Fair  Women' ; — 

Slowly  my  sense  undazzled.    Then  I  heard 
A  noise  of  some  one  coming  thro'  the  lawn, 

And  singing  clearer  than  the  crested  bird 
That  claps  his  wings  at  dawn. 


She  lock'd  her  lips  ;  she  left  me  where  I  stood : 
'  Glory  to  God, '  she  sang,  and  past  afar, 

Th  ridding  the  sombre  boskage  of  the  wood 
Toward  the  morning  star. 

In  both  stanzas,  the  independent  effect  of  each  set  of 
sounds  and  movements  is  enhanced  by  an  opening  contrast. 
In  Browning's  '  How  they  brought  the  Good  News  from 
Ghent  to  Aix,'  we  have  an  example  of  a  rapid  measure  well 
employed  to  express  rapid  motion  and  intensity  of  feeling. 
In  Dryden's  '  Alexander's  Feast,'  the  measure  is  constantly 
varied  in  order  to  suit  the  action  and  the  feeling  expressed. 

VERSIFICATION  AND  METEE. 

Metre  is  the  regular  recurrence  of  similar  groups  of 
accented  syllables  at  short  intervals. 

Essential  alike  to  prose  and  to  poetry  is  the  alterna- 
tion of  accented  and  unaccented  syllables.  When  the 
voice  has  made  a  strong  effort,  it  must  be  relaxed  prior  to  a 
similar  exertion. 

This  demand  is  answered  both  by  alternating  the  syl- 
lables in  accent  with  those  out  of  accent,  and  by  short  pauses 
and  stops,  amounting  to  a  total  rest  of  the  vocal  organs. 
The  modes  of  meeting  these  requirements  admit  of  the 
largest  variety,  and  contribute  greatly  to  the  charm  of 
language. 

When  the  accent  is  found  to  recur  at  regular  intervals 
within  a  series  of  words  or  syllables,  as  in  these  examples — 

He  plants'  |  his  foot'|steps  in'  |  the  sea' — 

What'  though  you  |  tell'  me  each  \  gay'  little  |  rover — 

each  of  the  groups  receives  the  name  of  a  Measure.  We 
have  different  measures  according  to  the  extent  of  the 
groups  and  the  place  of  the  accent  within  them. 

Between  two  accented  Syllables  in  English  words,  there 
can  lie  one,  or  two,  but  not  more  than  two,  unaccented 


296  VERSIFICATION   AND   METRE. 

syllables."  This  applies  either  to  single  words,  or  to  groups 
or  successions  of  words.  Consequently,  under  any  arrange- 
ment, the  first  accent  must  occur  not  beyond  the  third 
syllable.  Within  these  Umits,  five  distinct  positions,  giving 
rise  to  five  measures,  are  possible  :  two,  where  the  accent 
recurs  on  alternate  syllables,  three  where  the  accent  recurs 
on  every  third  syllable.  These  positions  give  their  measures 
the  names  Dissyllabic  and  Trisyllabic,  and  are  typified  by 
single  words  like  these— (1)  a'ble ;  (2)  ago' ;  (3)  pret'tily  ; 
(4)  discern'ing ;  (5)  reprimand'. 

The  various  regularly  accented  groups,  or  measures, 
which  involve  these  different  recurrences,  are  repeated  to 
form  verses.  A  verse  is  determined  in  length  by  the  number  of 
the  repetitions.  These,  for  practical  purposes,  are  seldom 
fewer  than  two  (the  dimeter),  or  moi-e  than  eight.  Often,  in 
the  case  of  the  1st  and  3rd  measures,  in  w^hich  the  accent 
falls  on  the  first  syllable,  the  last  measure  of  the  verse  is 
shortened  by  the  omission  of  the  unaccented  part ;  in  like 
manner,  the  closing  unaccented  syllable  of  the  4th  measure 
may  drop  away.  On  the  other  hand,  the  2nd  and  5th, 
accenting  on  the  last,  may  be  supplemented  at  the  end  by 
an  additional  unaccented  syllable,  more  rarely,  two,  forming 
no  part  of  any  new  measure.  Licenses  are  admissible  in  all. 
Occasionally  it  happens  that  one  measure,  as,  for  example, 
the  1st,  is  introduced  into  a  verse  made  up  of  the  2nd ; 
variety  and  greater  emphasis  being  thereby  obtained.  This 
liberty  is  taken  still  more  frequently  in  the  Trisyllabic 
measure ;  where,  too,  the  dropping  out  of  unaccented 
syllables  is  far  from  uncommon.  The  interchange  of  dactyls, 
anapaests  and  spondees  in  certain  of  the  classical  metres  is 
a  parallel  case. 

It  is  not  to  be  lost  sight  of,  that  gi-eat  liberty  is  taken  with 
accentuation.  For  the  purpose  of  speaking,  no  word,  however 
long,  has  more  than  one  principal  accent:  e.g.,  ' myste'rionsly,' 
'  hu'manised'.     Yet  in  Robert  Buchanan  {City  of  Dream)  we  get — 

"Was  now'  myste'rious'ly  hu'manis'ed ; 


so — 
and — 


Inton'ing  or'acles'  and  stu' dying' ; 
luhe'ritors'  of  im'morta'lity'. 


•  Such  lines  ,is  the  following  do  occur  : — 

Our  ar'my  lies'  rea'dy  to  give  up'  the  ghost'.— ('Julius  Csesar.') 
This  is  the  only  scansion  that  will  preserve  the  blank  verse  rhythm. 


LIBEBTIES   WITH    ACCENTUATION.  297 

See,  too,  Shakespeare's — 

The  mul'titu'dinous  seas'  incar'nadine'. 

It  is  made  a  merit  of  Dante  Rossetti's  that  in  his  Sonnets 
he  handles  these  polysyllables  habitually  to  good  metrical  pm-pose. 

The  same  word  may  even  have,  or  not  have,  some  other  than 
its  speaking  accent,  according  to  its  place  among  surrounding 
accents. 

Thus,  Arnold's — 

What  seeks'  on  the  moun'tain 
This  glo'rificd  train' ; 

'  glorified'  coiild  easily,  if  required,  take  two  accents—'  glo'rifi'ed  '. 
Or  take  his — 

But,  where  Hel'icon  breaks'  down 
In  cliff  to  the  sea ; 
the  reading  of  '  breaks'  down '  would,  as  a  rule,  be  '  breaks  down"  ; 
but   that   would   place   three    unaccented   syllables— a   forbidden 
mmiber— between  '  Hel'  — '  and  '  down".     Oir  cf.  his — 
Through  the  black',  rushing  smoke'-bursts, 
Thick  breaks'  the  red  flame' ; 
where  'rushing'  loses   its  accent  altogether,  because  of  'black' 
before  and  '  smoke '  after  it. 

Similarly  with  monosyallables :  they  depend  on  their  rhetorical 
emphasis  in  the  sentence  for  their  accent  in  verse ;  sometimes 
having  to  be  forced.  This  is  best  studied  in  lines  made  up  wholly 
of  monosyllables  :  e.g.,  Shakespeare's — 

That  in'  black  ink'  my  love'  may  stiU'  shine  bright' ; 
or  his — 

Or  if  they  sing',  'tis  with'  so  duU'  a  cheer'; 
where  unforced  reading  would  throw  '  so  '  into  accent. 

He  has  a  very  fine  couplet,  wholly  composed  of  monosyllables, 
where  every  accent  is  determined  by  the  rhetorically  important 
word : — 

So  long'  as  men'  can  breathe',  or  eyes'  can  see', 
So  long'  lives  this',  and  this'  gives  life'  to  thee'. 

Milton,  in  Paradise  Lost  (II.  621),  has  a  famous  monosyllabic 
line  : — • 

Eocks,  caves,  lakes,  fens,  bogs,  dens  and  shades  of  death. 
There  is  a  real  difficulty  here,  because  the  first  six  words  are 
equally  emphatic  ;  but  for  metrical  purposes,  '  fens '  and  '  dens  ' 
catch  the  ear,  and  so  the  accent,  by  their  rh.>Tiiing  sound ;  and 
then  at  the  close  the  '  and '  and  '  of  '  throw  the  weight  on  to  the 
important  words,  and  determine  the  movement  of  the  line. 

Mr.  Swinburne,  in  his  much-praised  anapaestic  metres,  secures 
the  same  effect  by  filling  up  the  unaccented  places  mostly  with 
particles  and  connectives  : — 
14 


293  VERSIFICATION   AND   METEE. 

The  word'  of  the  earth'  in  the  ears'  of  the  world',  was  it  God'  ?  was 
it  man'  ? 

Eyes'  that  had  look'ed  not  on  time',  and  ears'  that  had  heard'  not 
of  death'. 

For  the  waste'  of  the  dead'  void  air'  took  form'  of  a  world'  at  birth'. 
Not  each'  man  of  all'  men  is  God',  but  God'  is  the  fruit'  of  the 
whole'. 

With  such  fire'  as  the  stars'  of  the  skies'  are,  the  roots'  of  his  heart 

are  fed'. 
For  his  face'  is  set'  to  the  east',  his  feet'  on  the  past'  and  its  dead'. 

This  accounts  for  that  poet's  great  plentifuhiess  of  '  of  t^e,' 
'  in  the,'  '  for  the,'  '  that  had,'  '  that  has,'  &c.,  which  recur  in  him 
with  tlie  monotony  of  a  mannerism.  But  he  has  the  great  gain  of 
flinging  the  weight  of  accent  on  the  really  effective  words. 

There  may  now  be  given  some  Examples  of  the  most 
common  verses  in  the  different  measures.  The  use  of  the 
ancient  descriptive  epithets  is  abandoned,  because  of  their 
evident  incongruity,  except  to  designate  in  a  general  way 
the  measures  themselves. 

I.  Dissyllabic  Measures. 
1.  The  First,  or  Trochaic,  Measure. 

Hope'  is  I  ban'ish'd 

Joys'  are  |  van'ish'd — 
Gen'tle  |  riv'er,  |  gen'tle  |  riv'er — 
Lo'  thy  I  streams'  are  |  stain'd'  with  |  gore' — 

And'  tlio  I  ra'ven,  |  ne'ver  |  flit'ting,  |  still'  is  |  sifting,  |  still'  is  |  sifting 
On'  the  I  pai'lid  |  bust'  of  |  Pallas  |  jusf  a|bove'  my  |  cham'ber  |  door'. 

The  Trochaic  measure  has  a  light  tripping  movement, 
and  is  peculiarly  fitted  for  lively  subjects,  although  the 
examples  now  quoted  are  of  a  different  kind.  It  is  employed 
largely  in  simple  nursery  rhymes. 

Shakespeare  regularly  uses  a  variety  of  this  measure  for 
incantations,  charms,  &c.  See  '  Macbeth's '  witches,  the 
fairy  songs  and  charms  in  '  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,' 
or,  the  casket  scrolls  in  the  '  Merchant  of  Venice '.  Take 
one  of  these  last : — 

Air  that  glis'tcrs  is'  not  gold' : 
Ma'ny  a  man'  his  life'  hath  sold' 
But'  my  ouf  side  to'  behold' : 
Gild'ed  tombs'  do  worms'  infold'. 


THE    VARIOUS   MEASURES.  299 

Had'  you  been'  as  wise'  as  bold', 
Young'  in  limbs',  in  judg'ment  old', 
Your  an'swcr  had'  not  been'  inscroU'd' : 
Fare'  you  well' :  your  suit'  is  cold'. 

Gray  uses  a  variety  of  it  for  light  effect : — 

Thee'  the  voice',  the  dance'  obey', 
Tem'pered  to'  thy  war'bled  lay'. 
Now'  pursu'ing,  now'  retreat'ing, 
NoV  in  cir'cling  troops'  they  meet. 

2.  The  Second,  or  Iambic,  Measure. 

The  strains'  (  decay' 
And  melt'  |  away' — 

For  in'  |  my  mind'  |  of  all'  |  mankind' 
I  love'  I  but  you'  |  alone' — 

O'  I  Caledon'jia,  stern'  |  and  wild' — 

And  found'  |  no  end',  |  in  wan'|d'ring  ma'|zes  lost' — 

Such'  I  as  crea'|tion's  da\vn'  |  beheld'  |  thou  roll'|est  now' — 

Thespa'|ciousfir'|mament'  |  on  high'  |  and  all'  |  the  blue'  |  ethor'jeal  sky'. 

The  Iambic  measm-e  is  most  easily  kept  up.  It  is  there- 
fore in  very  common  use,  and  is  peculiarly  adapted  for  long 
poems. 

II.  Trisyllabic  Measures. 

1.  The  Third,  or  Dactylic,  Measure. 

Take'  her  up  |  ten'derly, 
Lift'  her  with  |  care' — 

Thou'  who  art  |  bear'ing  my  |  buckler  and  |  bow' — 

Spare'  me,  O  |  great'  Recoljlec'tion,  for  |  words'  to  the  |  task'  were 
un|e'qual. 

2.  The  Fourth,  or  Amphibrachic,  Measure. 

The  black'  bands  |  came  o'ver 

The  Alps'  and  the  snow' — 

My  cour'sers  |  are  fed'  with  |  the  light'ning. 

They  drink'  with  |  the  whirl'wind's  stream' — 

There  came'  to  |  the  shore'  a  |  poor  exile  |  of  E'rin, 

Tiie  dew'  on  |  his  thin'  robe  |  was  heav'y  |  and  chili'. 

3.  The  Fifth,  or  Anapaestic,  Measure. 

To  the  fame'  |  of  your  name' — 

See  the  snakes'  |  that  they  rear*, 

How  they  hiss'  |  in  the  air'— 
Shall  vic'itor  exult,'  |  or  in  death'  |  be  laid  low'. 
With  his  back'  |  to  the  field,'  |  and  his  feet'  |  to  the  foe'. 


300  VEBSIFICATION   AND   METEE. 

All  the  Trisyllabic  measures  have  a  quicker  movement 
than  the  Dissyllabic,  owing  to  the  greater  number  of  unac- 
cented syllables  ;  they  are  characterized  in  the  main  by 
rushing  impetuosity.  Mention  has  been  already  made  of 
their  readiness  to  admit  irregularities,  and  to  change  places. 
Indeed,  they  can  scarcely  be  called  distinct  measures ;  thus 
the  fourth,  for  example,  shows  clear  traces  of  dactylic 
rhythm.  We  might  scan  the  last-quoted  specimen  of  it 
thus : — 

Tli^re  I  came'  to  the  |  shore'  a  poor  |  ex'ile  of  |  Erin, 
Th6  I  dew'  on  his  |  thin'  robe  lay  |  hea\''y  and'  |  chill' — 

making  the  first  syllables  of  the  lines  unemphatic,  on  the 
principle  of  the  anacrusis,  or  back-stroke,  of  the  classical 
metres.  We  have  then  verses  of  properly  dactylic  measure, 
the  one  line  leading  continuously  on  to  the  next.  The  rarity 
of  the  pure  dactylic  measure  in  English  is  no  longer  a  matter 
of  wonder,  seeing  it  is  thus  found  so  often  disguised. 

Coleridge's  'Christabel,'  and  some  of  Byron's  poems,  are 
written  in  a  metre  disposed  in  lines  varying  in  length  from 
seven  to  twelve  syllables,  but  always  containing  four  ac- 
cented positions  ;  thus  : — 

I  won'der'd  what'  |  might  ail'  |  the  bird'; 

For  no'  thing  near'  |  it  could'  |  I  see', 

Save  the  grass'  |  and  green  herbs'  |  underneath'  |  the  old  tree'. 

Though  Coleridge  called  this  a  new  principle,  the  only  thing 
new  was  the  systematic  execution. 

The  Pauses. 
I.  The  Final  Paw^e. — The  length  of  verse  is  determined 
by  the  number  of  '  measures  ' ;  and  the  number  of  measures 
going  to  any  verse  is  determined  by  a  distinguishable  rest 
or  pause  of  the  voice.     To  justify  this  pause,  there  must  be 
a  break  in  the  sense ;  not  necessarily  such  a  break  as  w^ould 
demand  a  punctuation  mark,  but,  at  the  least,  the  end  of  a 
word  must  be  reached,  and  even  to  separate  two  w^ords  that 
are  closely  joined  in  a  phrase  is  felt  to  be  inelegant.* 
To  exemplify,  take  Paradise  Lost,  III.  37  :  — 
'Dion  feed  on  thoughts  that  voluntary  move 
Harmonious  niunbers  ;  as  the  wakeful  bird 

*  T)r.  Kdwin  Ouest,  in  A  HUtoi->i  of  English  Rhidhiitx,  lias  very  fnlly  developed 
this  point ;  and,  though  instances  can"  be  cited  against  him  from  nearly  all  our  poets, 
yet  these,  instances  make  hut  a  trifling  proportion  of  any  poet's  verses.  Mr.  Joseph 
B.  Mayor,  in  Chnpters  nn  Enylish  Mttre,  contests  Dr.  Guest's  doctrine,  hut  seems  to 
cimfoiind  two  things  that  Dr.  Guest  expressly  distinguished,— a  metrical  jMuse  and 
a  punctuation  »top. 


THE    PAUSES.  301 

Sings  darkling,  and,  in  shadiest  covert  hid, 
Tunes  her  nocturnal  note, 

'  Move '  and  *  bird '  both  give  a  stifficient  break  ;  while  '  hid  ' 
makes  one  marked  enough  to  need  a  comma  for  gram- 
matical pm'poses. 

Take  another  passage,  from  Mr.  Swinburne's  '  Atalanta 
in  Calydon  ' : — 

These  things  are  in  my  presage,  and  myself 
Am  part  of  them  and  know  not ;  but  in  dreams 
The  gods  are  heavy  on  me,  and  all  the  fates 
Shed  fire  across  my  eyelids  mixed  Avith  night, 
And  burn  me  blind,  and  disilluminate 
My  sense  of  seeing,  and  my  perspicuous  soul 
Darken  with  vision  ;  seeing,  I  see  not,  hear 
And  hearing  am  not  holpen. 

Six  of  these  eight  lines  are  cases  of  the  purely  metrical 
pause  occurring  at  a  point  where  the  sense  breaks,  but  not  so 
as  to  need  punctuation  marks. 

No  doubt  Milton  has  lines  like — 

Now  in  loose  garlands  thick  thrown  off,  the  bright 
Pavement,  that  like  a  sea,  &c.  {Paradise  Lost,  III.  3G2)  — 

where  there  is  no  such  break  in  sense  between  the  adjective 
'  bright '  and  its  noun  '  pavement '  as  to  justify  the  final 
pause  above  defined  ;  but  there  are  few  such  lines  in  Milton, 
the  vast  majority  following  the  canon  now  laid  down. 

In  Shakespeare,  especially  in  the  later  plays,  verses  end 
with  words  that  cannot,  by  any  natural  reading,  be  paused 
upon.     In  neighbouring  lines  of  the  '  Tempest,'  we  find — 

I  will  resist  such  entertainment  till 
Mine  enemy  has  more  power  ; 
and — 

IMake  not  too  rash  a  trial  of  hun,  for 
He's  gentle  and  not  fearful. 

Further  on,  in  the  same  play,  we  meet  with — 

You  cram  these  words  into  mine  ears  against 
The  stomach  of  my  sense  ; 


and — 


Weigh'd  between  loathness  and  obedience,  at 
Which  end  o'  the  beam  should  bow. 


Byron  is  notorious  for  his  carelessness*  in  metre,  and 
accordingly  abounds  in  such  lines. 

*  Even  at  its  best,  the  serious  poetry  of  Byron  is  often  so  rough  and  loose,  so 
■weak  in  the  screws  and  joints  which  hold  together  the  framework  of  verse,  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  praise  it  enough  without  seeming  to  couilone  or  to  extenuate  such 
faults  as  should  not  be  overlooked  or  forgiven.    (Swinburne.) 


302  VERSIFICATION    AND   METRE. 

Such  as,  before  me,  did  the  Magi,  and 
He  who,  &c.     ('  Manfred.') 

I  did  not  \isit  on 
The  innocent  creature.     ('  Marino  Fahero. ') 
Souls  that  dare  look  the  Omnipotent  tyrant  in 
His  everlasting  face.     ('  Cain.') 

Let  him  but  vanquish,  and 
Me  perish  !     ('  Sardanapalus. ') 

Be  he  richest  of 
Such  rank  as  is  permitted.     ('  Two  Foscari.') 
Had  not  thy  justice  been  so  tempered  with 
The  mercy  which  is  Thy  delight,  as  to  ' 

Accord  a  pardon,     ('  Cain.') 

And  as 
For  duty,  as  you  call  it.     ('  Werner.') 
A  hateful  and  unsightly  molehill  to 
The  eyes  of  happier  men.     ('  Deformed  Transformed.') 

That  Byron,  though  indulging  in  this  practice,  was  aware 
of  its  metrical  impropriety,  is  shown  by  his  conscious  use  of 
it  in  Don  Juan  for  comic  purposes.  In  the  first  stanza  of 
the  dedication,  we  meet — 

Although  'tis  true  that  you  tum'd  out  a  Tory  at 
Last. 

Throughout  the  poem,  such  pauses  as  the  following  are 
common  :— 

Instead  of  quarrelling,  had  they'  been  both'  in 

Their  senses.     (I.  25. ) 

Which  ancient  mass-books  often  are',  and  this'  all 

Kinds  of  grotesques  illumined.     (I.  46.) 

And  I  must  say,  I  ne'er  could  see  the  very 

Great  happiness  of  the  Nil  Admirari.     (V.  100.) 

Pity'  that'  so  few'  by 
Poets  and  private  tutors  are  exposed.     (V.  131.) 
There  lies,  yclept  despatches,  without  risk  or 
The  singemg  of  a  single  inky  whisker.     (V.  151.) 

II.  The  Middle  Pause,  or  Cresura. — Every  verse,  or  line,  if  it 
go  beyond  four  '  measures '  or  accents,  should  have  a  rest  to 
the  voice  about  the  middle  ;  e.g.,  in  an  ordinary  blank  verse, 
this  pause  should  divide  it  into  two  sections,  one  of  two,  and 
the  other  of  three  accents.  Thus  :  if  one  woi'd  contain  three 
accents  of  the  verse,  that  word  must  not  occupy  the  centre, 
but  come  at  the  beginning  or  the  end. 

In  illustx'ation,  Shakespeare  supplies  a  breach,  and 
Matthew  Arnold  an  example,  of  this  rule,  and  that  with  the 
same  word  :— 


THE    CiESUKA.  303 

And  what  impossibility  would  slay — 

('  All's  well  that  ends  well.') 
When  true,  the  last  impossibility. 

We  are  familiar  with  this  pause,  or  Caesura,  in  the  com- 
mon ballad  metre  of  seven  accents,  where  it  is  marked  out 
by  dividing  each  verse  into  two  separate  parts.  In  some 
early  Elizabethan  books  of  poetry,  this  form  of  printing  was 
followed  even  in  verses  of  only  five  accents. 

For  the  Ctiesura,  a  slighter  break  in  sense  will  often 
have  to  serve  for  the  final  pause :  put  negatively,  the  rule 
is  that  the  Caesura  shall  not  occur  in  the  middle  of  a 
word. 

There  are  far  more  violations  of  this  rule  to  be  found 
than  of  the  rule  of  the  Final  Pause,  due  probably  to  the 
fact  that  the  Caesura  has  no  longer  any  visible  representation 
in  printing.  But  attention  to  it  is  found  prevalent  in  all 
melodious  poets,  when  they  deal  in  long  verses;  e.g.,  Tenny- 
son in  '  Locksley  Hall '. 

These  pauses,  being  rests  from  the  effort  of  articulation,  afford  the 
means  of  getting  over  consonant  clashes  and  vowel  hiatuses;  the  rest 
coming  in  at  that  point  gives  time  for  easily  shaping  the  vocal  organs  to 
pronounce  the  new  consonant  or  vowel  (see  Melody).  This  helps  the 
difficulty  in  Gray's  line  : — 

The  lowing  herd  ||  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea  ; 

'  rd  '  followed  by  '  w '  is  not  a  very  easy  combination,  but  the  difficulty 
is  concealed  by  the  metrical  pause  between  them.  By  this  means 
also,  two  accented  syllables  may  stand  together,  either  inside  a  line, 
or  at  the  end  of  one  and  the  opening  of  the  next ;  an  arrangement  that 
has  a  specific  and  appreciable  effect.  In  the  following  lines  from 
Paradise  Lost  (II.  106),  this  advantage  and  the  former  one  are  com- 
bined : — 

He  ended  frowning,  and  his  look  denounced' 

Desperate  revenge. 
From  '  Lear, '  we  get  this  effect  in  Cassura  : — 

Humanity  must  perfo;-cc'  ||  irrcy'  on  itself. 

A  third  point  is  that  if  the  middle  pause  occur  after  an  unaccented 
syllable,  the  measure  following  can  more  readily  remain  comi^lete  ; 
this  is  how,  with  the  final  pause  also,  an  extra  syllable  may  be  at- 
tached to  a  line,  and  yet  the  following  one  open  as  if  no  departure  from 

the  regular  form  had  been  made.     In  '  King  John  '  there  occurs  ; 

Thou  slave,  thou  wretch,  thou  coward  ! 
Thou  liL'ile  valiant,  great  in  villainy  ! 

Of  the  Cresural  variety  of  this,  Chaucer  is  full : — 

Thou  schul'dest  nev'ere  ||  out  of  this  grove'  pace'. 
It  is  obvious  that  there  may  be  great  variety  in  the  markedness  of 
the  sense  break  corresponding  to  these  pauses,  and  also  in  the  position 


304  VEESIFICATION   AND   METEE. 

of  the  Cnesural  pause  among  the  syllables  makmg  up  the  line.  As  a 
source  of  variety,  there  must  be  added  the  many  possible  placings  of 
the  grammatif  al  stops  in  the  lines  of  a  poem ;  this  is  what  Jlilton 
meant  in  the  famous  preface  by  the  expression — '  the  sense  variously 
drawn  out  from  one  verse  into  another  '. 

It  is  by  the  numerous  combinations  of  measures  ■with 
pauses  that  metrical  effect,  sti'ictly  so  called,  is  reached. 
No  more  is  necessary  to  that  kind  of  effect ;  a  poet  may 
display  great  metrical  skill  without,  for  example,  securing 
the  melody  of  easy  arrangements  of  vowels  and  consonants. 
But  there  are  adjuncts  of  metre,  such  as  Alliteration  and 
Ehyme,  Vv'hich  greatly  enrich  it. 

Alliteration. 

This  is  now  merely  a  fanciful  analogy.  Alliteration, 
which  means  the  recurrence  at  short  intervals  of  the  same 
initial  letter,  may  be  described  as  a  metrical  ornament. 
Attempted,  more  or  less,  in  the  poetry  of  almost  all  lan- 
guages, it  was  especially  used,  as  the  main  feature  of 
versification,  in  the  Old  German,  x\nglo-Saxon,  and  Scandi- 
navian poetry.  According  to  strict  usage,  two  or  three 
words  in  one  line,  and  one  word  in  the  next,  began  with 
the  same  letter ;  as  is  seen  in  this  extract  from  the  well- 
known  poem  of  the  14th  century,  '  Piers  Ploughman  ' : — 

There  preached  a  pardoner 
As  he  a  j^rieste  were  ; 
brought  forth  a  iull 
With  many  Jishop's  seals. 

In  later  English  poetry,  it  is  curious  to  note  how  often 
alliteration  is  found,  even  to  perfection,  as  in  the  verses  of 
Spenser,  Milton,  Coleridge,  Shelley,  Tennyson,  &c.  A  few 
examples  may  be  given  : — 

Tlie  fcush  my  bed,  the  iramble  was  my  Jower, 
The  j'.-oods  can  2/;itness  many  a  iioful  stowre, 
Of  man's /irst  disobedience,  and  the/ruit 
Of  that/orbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste. 
The /air  freeze  blew  ;  the  wliite/oam/lew, 
The  /urro  w  /ollowed  /ree. 

Like  a  f/lowworm  grolden 

In  a  dell  of  dew. 
And  on  a  sudden,  ^o  !  the  level  /ake 
And  tlie  long  glories  of  the  winter  moon. 
Extensive  harvests  /wuig  the  he&vy  he&d. 


ALLITERATION    IN   ENGLISH    POETRY.  305 

That  there  is  something  naturally  pleasing  in  such  con- 
junctions, is  evident  from  their  frequency  in  current  sayings 
and  proverbs.  For  instance  :  'Life  and  limb,'  '  Watch  and 
ward,'  '  Man  and  mouse,'  '  Far  fowls  have  feathers  fair  '. 
An  extreme  case  of  Alliteration  is  found  in  the  line — 

Let  lovely  lilacs  line  Lee's  lonely  lane — 

where  every  syllable  begins  alike.  (See  Dr.  Longmuir's 
Edition  of  Walker's  lUnjming  Dictionary,  p.  xxix.) 

To  get  full  alliterative  effect,  this  line  shows  that  the 
similarly  opening  syllables  should  be  accented  ;  it  is  too 
strong  an  effect  to  put  obviously  on  weak  syllables,  and,  by 
retarding  them,  obliterates  the  metrical  movement. 

It  is  pointed  out  by  Mr.  J.  A.  Symonds  that  Milton 
runs  an  aUiteration  right  through  whole  periods,  and  even 
strengthens  the  effect  by  taking  in  cognate  consonants  : 
e.g.,  to  help  an  alliteration  on  '  f,'  he  will  take  in  '  v,'  '  p,' 
and  '  b '.  This  is  most  obtrusively  done  when  he  repeats 
the  same  word,  or  grammatical  varieties  of  it. 

Paradise  Regaiivd  (III.  119-120)  is  a  prolonged  example 
of  these  points  in  Milton  : — 

Think  not  so  slight  of  (jTorij,  therein  least 
Resembling  thy  jrreat  Father.     He  seeks  glory. 
And  for  his  glory  all  things  made,  all  things 
Orders  and  governs  ;  nor  content  in  heaven, 
By  all  his  angels  lyZon'fied,  requires 
Glory  from  men,  from  all  men,  ^ood  or  bad, 
Wise  or  miwise,  no  difference,  no  exemption. 
Above  all  sacrifice,  all  hallowed  lyift, 
Glory  he  requires,  and  glory  he  receives, 
Promiscuous  from  all  nations,  Jew  or  Greek, 
Or  barbarous,  nor  exception  hath  declared  ; 
From  us,  his  foes  pronounced,  glory  he  exacts. 

Ehyme. 

Ehyme  may  be  called  metrical  in  a  wide  sense,  as 
determining  a  recurrence  of  sound  in  the  closing  syllable  or 
syllables  of  different  verses.  It  is  a  poetical  ornament  pecu- 
liar to  poetry  subsequent  to  the  classical  period,  and  by  no 
means  universally  employed.  The  blank  verse,  in  which  so 
much  of  English  poetry  is  written,  discards  it  altogether. 
Possibly,  it  was  a  sense  of  the  comparative  paucity  of  Eng- 
lish rhymes,  as  well  as  veneration  for  classical  models,  that 
caused  Ben  Jon  son,  Milton  and  others  to  rebel  against  its 


306  VEBSIFICATION   AND   METRE. 

fetters.  Ehyme,  however,  is  so  pleasing  and  so  easily  under- 
stood, as  to  stand  higher  than  any  other  poetical  artifice 
in  popular  estimation.  The  existence  of  so-called  doggerel 
verses  is  a  rude  testimony  to  its  power.  Three  conditions 
are  required  before  two  syllables  make  a  perfect  rhyme. 

1.  The  vowel-sound  and  what  (if  anything)  follows  it, 
must  be  the  same  in  both  :  '  long,'  '  ^ong '  ;  '  sea,'  '  free'.  As 
rhyme  depends  upon  sound  only,  the  spelling  is  of  no  con- 
sequence :  '  bear,'  '  hare,'  are  rhymes;  not  so  'bear,'  'fear'. 

A  great  many  conventional  combinations  are  permitted  by 
custom,  being  a  sort  of  eye-rhymes.  Since  they  do  not  possess 
the  specific  effect  of  rhymes,  they  should  not  be  tolerated. 
They  are  such  as  '  love,'  '  move ' ;  '  poor,'  '  door  ' ;  '  earth,' 
'birth';  'main,'  'again';  'live,'  '  thi'ive,'  &c.  Pope  has 
many  such  faulty  correspondences,  rhyming,  within  the  292 
lines  of  the  Second  Moral  EssaTj,  as  the  following  words  : 
'weak,'  'take';  'thought,'  with  'fault,'  'draught'  (draft), 
and  '  taught ' ;  '  feast,'  '  taste, ' ;  '  birth,'  '  earth  '  ;  '  brain,' 
'  again  ' ;  '  gi'eat,'  '  cheat ' ;  '  store,'  '  poor '  ;  '  unmov'd,' 
'  lov'd ' ;  '  swells,'  '  conceals,' ;  '  taught,'  '  fault ' ;  '  retreat,' 
'  great ' ;  '  most,'  '  lost '.  Keats,  in  Lamia,  has  :  '  alone,' 
'  boon  ' ;  '  bliss,'  '  is '  (twice) ;  '  was,'  '  pass  ' ;  *  undrest,' 
'  amethyst ' ;  '  muse,'  '  house  ' ;  '  fared,'  '  appeared  ' ;  '  sung,' 
'  long  ' ;  '  one,'  '  tune  ' ;  '  youth,'  '  soothe  ' ;  '  rose,' '  lose  ' ; 
'his,'  'miss';  'on,'  'known';  '  eager»e-5.9,'  'dec?'ease'; 
'  how,'  ' know' ;  '  past,'  '  haste ' ;  ' year,'  '  where ' ;  ' cuxious,' 
'house';  'one,'  'known';  'on,' 'one';  'feast,'  'drest'; 
'  smoke,'  '  took' ;  'rose,'  '  odorows' ;  '  stood,'  'God  ' ;  'feast,' 
'  placed';   '  shriek,'  '  break  ' ;  'again,'  '  vein ' ;  '  lost,'  'ghost'. 

2.  The  articulation  before  the  vowel-sound  must  be 
different:  '^/reen,'  '  spl&Bn' ;  'call,'  '/all,'  'all'.  The  letter 
//,  is  not  considered  a  distinct  articulation  :  '  Aeart,'  'art,'  are 
improper  rhymes. 

3.  Botli  must  be  accented :  '  try','  '  sigh"  ;  not  '  try',' 
'bright'///'.  There  is  an  admitted  violation  of  this  rule, 
when  the  accent  on  a  syllable  is  metrical  purely,  and  not 
proper  to  the  word.  This  ati'ords  what  is  called  a  iveak 
rhyme.  For  example  :  '  eye,'  '  utter/?/ ' ;  '  reply,'  '  revelry  ' ; 
'  trees,' '  intri'cacies' ' ;  '  he,'  '  ruefully ' ;  'hour,'  'paramour'; 
'please,'  'goddesses".  The  main  source  of  these  is  the 
endings  in  y ;  which  may  sound  /  or  e  at  need.  To  know 
whicli  way  to  take  the  weak  ending,  we  must  get  the  other 
rhyming  syllable  first — a  consideration  that  leads  Johnson 


CONDITIONS  OP  KHYMB.  307 

to  forbid  rhymes  in   the   order  of :    '  mysteries,'  '  eyes  ' ; 

*  palaces,'  '  please  '  ;  '  f airily,'  •  see  ' ;  '  empery,'  sigh '. 

Ehymes  are  single:  as  '  plain,'  'grain' ;  double:  as  'glo-ry,' 
'  sto-ry  ' ;  or  triple :  as  '  read-i-ly,'  '  stead-i-ly '.  In  double  and 
triple  rhymes,  the  last  syllables  are  unaccented,  and  are 
really  appendages  to  the  true  rhyming  sound,  which  alone 
fulfils  the  conditions  laid  down  above :  cul'minatej/ul'minato. 
The  double  and  triple  rhymes  give  scope  for  surprises  of 
ingenuity.  They  are  one  of  the  helps  in  comic  pieces,  like 
Butler's  Hudihras  and  Byron's  Dun  Juan.  The  latter 
poem  is  prodigally  adorned  with  triple  rhymes  : — 

But  oh !  ye  lords  of  ladies  mieVeclual 

Inform  us  truly,  have  they  not  h.enpcclc'd  you  all. 

He  learned  the  arts  of  riding,  fencing,  gunnery, 

And  how  to  scale  a  fortress — or  a  nunnery. 

Byron  even  makes  a  prodigy  of  four  syllables  : — 
So  that  their  plan  and  prosody  are  eligible, 
Unless,  like  Wordsworth,  they  prove  nniatelligihle. 

The  Ingoldsby  Legends  deals  in  such  effects :  '  Cliancery,' 

*  answer  he ' ;  '  revell  in,'  '  Devil  in ' :  or — 

In  short,  she  turns  out  a  complete  Lady  Bountiful, 
Filling  with  drugs  and  brown  Holland  the  county  full. 

The  double  rhyme,  can,  however,  be  used  for  serious 
purposes  ;  and  Mr.  Swinburne  has  been  bold  in  this  use  of 
it.  He  has  even  ventured  on  serious  uses  of  the  triple 
rhyme : — 

Send  but  a  song  oversea  for  its, 

Heart  of  their  hearts  who  are  free, 
Heart  of  their  singer,  to  be  for  us 
More  than  our  singing  can  be  ; 
Ours,  in  the  tempest  at  error 
With  no  light  but  the  twilight  of  terror; 

Send  us  a  song  oversea. 
It  sees  not  what  season  shall  hi-ing  to  it 

Sweet  fruit  of  its  bitter  desire  ; 
Few  voices  it  hears  yet  sing  to  it. 
Bound  yoiir  people  and  over  them 

Night  like  raiment  is  drawn. 
Close  as  a  garment  to  cover  them. 
Browning  also  frequently  employs  both  double  and  triple 
rhymes. 

Ehymes  are  not  confined  to  the  close  of  separate  verses, 
but  are  sometimes  found  in  the  middle  and  at  the  end  of  the 
same  verse.  Some  hues  from  Shelley's  '  Cloud '  will  illus- 
trate both  cases  : — 


308  VERSIFICATION   AXD   METKE. 

I  bring  fresh  shoirers  for  the  thirstiiig_^lt>ttrrs 

From  the  seas  and  the  streams; 
I  bear  light  shad^  for  the  leaves  when  laid 

In  their  noon-day  drca7ns. 

In  this  passage,  it  might  be  possible  to  argue  that  the 
line  should  be  printed  as  two  ;  but  this  is  precluded  in  the 
following  from  Scott : — 

Then  up  with  your  cup,  till  you  siag<jcr  in  sy-ccch. 

And  r/i'ifyrJi  me  this  cat^ch,  though  you  siraoQcr  and  scrc<4Ji, 

And  drini:  till  you  irini;  my  merry  men  ca^.h. 

The  marked  similarity  of  rhyming  closes  draws  the 
attention  on  the  rhyming  words,  and  so  gives  them  eni- 
phasis.  It  is  a  great  part,  accordingly,  of  the  artistic  use  of 
rhyme  that  it  should  fall  on  words  sufficiently  important  to 
deserve  the  added  emphasis. 

But  further  :  the  rhyme  corresponds  with  the  words 
where  the  Final  Pause  is,  which  is  itself  an  emphasis-giving 
effect. 

Hence,  this  unavoidable  combination  of  Ehjrme  with 
Pause  makes  it  absolutely  necessary,-  that  none  but  words  of 
weighty  meaning  should  come  into  these  places. 

There  is  nothing  to  justify  such  an  emphasis  as  Chap- 
man, by  these  means,  throws  on  'forms'  in  the  followincr: — 
Before  her  flew  Affliction,  girt  in  storms, 
Gash'd  all  with  gushing  wounds,  and  all  the  forms 
Of  bane  and  misery, — 

On  the  other  hand  '  storms  '  gets  a  deserved  emphasis. 

Drajton  has  a  well-rhymed  opening  stanza  in  one  of  his 
-\gincomt  Odes : — 

Fair  stood  the  wind  for  France, 
When  we  our  sails  advance. 
Nor  now  to  prove  our  chance 

Longer  will  tarry ; 
But  putting  to  the  main. 
At  Caus,  the  mouth  of  Seine, 
With  all  his  martial  train, 

Landed  King  Harry, 

It  is  a  stroke  of  art  to  open  such  an  ode  on  the  rhvme  of 
'  France '. 

As  might  be  expected  in  such  a  master  of  the  heroic 
couplet,  Dryden  affords  many  happy  instances  of  well- 
placed  emphasis  of  rhyme  and  pause  :— 

Next  these,  a  troop  of  busy  spirits  press, 
Of  little  fortunes  and  of  conscience  h^s. 

— ('  Absalom  and  Achitophel. ') 


ASSONANCES.  309 

The  opening  of  'MacFleckuoe'  is  a  model  in  this  respect  (see 
p.  248).  Three  leading  words  are  finely  placed;  and  '  obey' 
is  as  good  as  any  other  there  possible. 

Repetitions  of  like  vowel-sounds,  where  other  conditions 
of  perfect  rhyme  are  neglected,  get  the  name  of  Assonances. 
These  have  no  regular  place  in  English  poetry,  as  they  have 
in  some  other  languages,  but  they  are  occasionally  found  in- 
stead of  rhymes  in  old  ballads.     For  example  : — 

And  Cloudesly  lay  ready  there  in  a  cart, 

Fast  bound,  both  foot  and  hmul  ; 
And  a  strong  rope  about  his  neck, 

All  ready  for  to  hawj. 

Shakespeare  has  : — 

Earth's  increase  and  foison  plenty. 
Barns  and  garners  never  empty  — 


Spring  come  to  you  at  the  farthest 
At  the  very  end  of  Jturvest. 


Two  lines  or  verses  rhyming  together  in  succession  form 
a  couplet ;  three,  a  triplet  or  tercet.  Groups  of  four  lines, 
which  may  rhyme  in  various  combinations,  are  called  '//'*«- 
traina.  A  danza  is  the  least  group  of  Hues  involving  all  the 
peculiarities  of  metre  and  arrangement  of  rhymes  character- 
istic of  the  piece  wherein  it  enters. 

Kinds  of  Veese, 

The  elements  for  constructing  the  various  kinds  of  verse 
common  in  English  poetry  have  now  been  mentioned.  They 
are  the  five  measures  repeated  to  make  lines  of  various  length : 
not  seldom,  compounded  with  one  another  ;  occasionally, 
made  harmonious  by  alliteration  ;  and,  in  most  kinds  of 
poetry,  fitted  with  rhyming  closes.  The  Ehyme,  by  its  very 
nature,  supposing  at  least  two  lines  or  verses,  practically 
determines  what  special  forms  the  versification  shall  assume  ; 
in  the  absence  of  rhyme,  the  versification  is  complete  within 
the  single  line. 

This  last  case  of  simple  unrhymed  metrical  combination 
is  best  disposed  of  by  itself,  before  the  more  intricate  rhymed 
forms  are  noticed.  It  is  the  Blank  Verse,  called  also  Heroic, 
and  belongs  to  English  hterature.  The  name  Heroic  arises 
from  its  employment  in  the  High  Epic,  where  it  takes 
the  place  of  the  classical  hexameter.     It  is  composed  of  five 


310  VERSIFICATION   AND   METRE. 

Iambic  measures,  as  seen  in  the  appended  extract  from 
Milton  :— 

High  on'  I  a  throne'  I  of  roy'lal  State,'  |  -which  far' 
Outshone'  |  the  wealth'  |  of  Or'|inuz  and'  |  of  Ind', 
Or  where  the  gorgeous  East  with  richest  hand 
Showers  on  her  kings  barharic  pearl  and  gold — 

Young,  Thomson,  Wordsworth,  and  Tennyson  also  make 
use  of  Blank  Verse,  although  the  lines  of  each  have  a  distinct 
ring  or  rhythm,  dependent  for  the  most  part  upon  their 
management  of  the  natural  pauses. 

In  the  Drama,  a  somewhat  looser  form  of  Blank  Verse 
is  in  common  use,  varied  occasionally  by  rhyming  couplets. 
Frequently,  the  verse  is  hypermetrical  by  one  or  even  two 
syllables.    Thus : — 

Most  poltent,  grave,  |  and  rev'jrend  Si'gniors; 
My  ve|ry  nojble  and  |  approv'd  |  good  masjfcrs. 

The  combinations  that  are  formed  to  meet  the  necessities, 
or  gain  the  advantage,  of  Ehyme,  are  so  exceedingly  nume- 
rous, that  it  will  be  impossible  to  allude  to  more  than  a  few 
of  the  common  forms,  associated  with  well  marked  kinds  of 
composition.  In  these  the  Iambic  measure  is  found  largely 
to  preponderate. 

Iambic  Odosyllahics,  of  four  measures,  or  eight  syllables, 
in  couplets  rhyming  at  the  close.     As — 

Lord  IMar'  mion  turn'd,'  |  well  was'  |  his  need' 
And  dash'd'  |  the  row';els  in'  |  his  steed'. 

This  form  is  employed  in  Byron's  Tales,  in  Hudihras,  &c. 
Scott  varies  it  often  by  lines  of  six  syllables,  or  runs  it  into 
triplets.  Other  poets  write  triplets  in  stanzas.  Quatrains 
in  stanzas,  rhyming  by  couplets  or  alternately,  are  exceed- 
ingly common. 

Tennyson's  In  Memoriam  has  made  famous  an  old  com- 
bination of  eight-syllabled  lines,  with  four  accents  and 
iambic  movement.  The  stanza  has  four  lines,  1  and  4,  and 
2  and  3  rhyming  together. 

ILruic  Couplets,  five  iambic  measures  rhymed. 

Know  well  |  thyself  |  presume  |  not  God  |  to  scan ; 
The  prosper  stu,dy  of  |  mankind  |  is  man, 

Chaucer,  Marlowe,  Dryden,  Pope,  Cowper,  &c.,  have  used 
this  metre  ;  Swinburne  and  Wilham  Morris  have  made  great 


VARIETIES   OF   VERSE.  311 

use  of  it  for  narrative  poetry.  Like  the  last,  it  is  occasion- 
ally run  into  triplets,  which  may  form  stanzas. 

Several  more  complex  combinations  are  formed  out  of 
rhyming  heroics. 

Four  lines,  rhyming  alternately,  make  the  Elegiac  Stanza, 
— found  in  Gray's  '  Elegy,'  Dryden's  '  Annus  Mirabilis,'  &c. 

Let  not  I  Ambiltion  mock  |  their  useful  toil, 
Their  home;ly  joys  |  and  des  tiny  |  obscure  ; 

Nor  granldeur  hear  |  with  a  |  disdainful  smile 
The  short  |  and  sim^ple  aninals  of  |  the  poor. 

Seven  heroic  lines,  the  five  first  rhyming  at  intervals  and 
the  two  last  in  succession,  give  the  Ehyme  Eoyal  of  Chaucer 
and  the  Elizabethan  writers. 

But,  oh  I  the  doleful  sight  |  that  then  |  we  see  ! 
We  turned  our  look,  and  on  the  other  side 

A  grisly  shape  of  Famine  mought  we  see  : 

With  greedy  looks,  and  gaping  mouth,  that  cried 
And  roared  for  meat,  as  she  should  there  have  died  : 

Her  body  tliin  and  bare  as  any  bone. 

Whereto  was  left  nought  but  the  case  alone. 

Eight  heroics,  the  first  six  rhyming  alternately  and  the 
last  two  in  succession,  compose  the  Italian  Ottava  Rlma. 
This  combination  is  found  in  translations,  and  in  Don  Juan. 

The  oth|er  fa|ther  had  |  a  weak|lier  |  child, 

Of  a  soft  cheek,  and  aspect  delicate  ; 
But  the  boy  bore  up  long,  and  with  a  mild 

And  patient  spirit  held  aloof  his  fate  ! 
Little  he  said,  and  now  and  then  he  smiled 

As  if  to  win  a  part  from  off  the  weight 
He  saw  increasing  on  his  father's  heart. 
With  the  deep  deadly  thought  that  they  must  part. 

The  Sonnet  consists  of  fourteen  heroic  lines,  with  a 
peculiar  arrangement  of  the  rhymes,  not,  however,  always 
strictly  observed. 

The  Spenserian  stanza  of  Spenser,  Beattie,  and  Byron  is 
an  English  combination  of  eight  heroics  rhyming  at  in- 
tervals, and  followed  by  a  rhyming  Alexandrine  of  twelve 
syllables. 

The  lilon  would  |  not  leave  |  her  delsolate, 
But  with  her  went  along,  as  a  strong  guard 

Of  her  chaste  person,  and  a  faithful  mate 
Of  her  sad  troubles  and  misfortunes  hard : 
Still  when  she  slept,  he  kept  both  watch  and  ward  ; 


312  VEBSIFICATION   AND   METEE. 

And  when  she  waked,  he  waited  diligent 

With  humble  ser\-ice  to  her  will  prepared ; 
From  her  |  fair  eyes  |  he  took  |  coumian  dement, 
And  ev|er  by  |  her  looks  |  conceivjed  her  |  intent. 

The  Alexandrine,  of  six  iambic  measures,  and  rhyming  in 
couplets,  is  employed  by  itself  in  Drayton's  '  Polyolbion  '. 

Seven  iambic  measures,  rhyming  in  couplets,  form  the 
common  Service  metre  of  psalms  and  hymns,  and  also  the 
Ballad  metre. 

Lord,  thou  |  hast  been  |  our  dwel  ling  place  |I  in  gen|eraltions  all, 
Before  |  thou  ev|er    hadst  |  brought   forth  ||  the  mounltains  great  I  or 

small. 

As  the  middle  pause  falls  regularly  after  the  fourth 
measure,  it  is  customary  to  write  the  couplet  as  a  stanza  of 
four  lines ;  in  the  following  example,  the  first  and  third 
lines  are  made  to  rhyme : — 

Soft  as  the  dew  from  heaven  descends, 

His  gentle  accents  fell : 
The  niodest  stranger  lowly  bends, 

And  follows  to  the  cell. 

A  single  example  of  Trochaic  Combination  may  be 
quoted : — 

Onward,  onward  may  we  press 

Through  the  path  of  duty ; 
Virtue  is  true  happiness. 

Excellence,  true  beauty. 
Mmds  are  of  celestial  birth ; 
Make  we  then  a  heaven  of  earth. 

Great  as  is  the  number  of  existing  models,  English  poets 
have  still  large  scope  for  new  and  original  combinations. 

The  critical  examination  of  Metre,  no  less  than  the 
entire  flow  of  melodious  verse,  presupposes  a  view  of 
its  efticacy  in  poetical  composition. 

The  following  are  the  chief  principles  in  metre : — 
I.  The  condition  of  mind  under  an  unusual  degree 
of  emotional  fervour,  is  suited  by  the  metrical  form  of  lan- 
guage, in  company  with  the  characteristic  diction  of  poetry. 
For  one  thing,  the  more  excited  we  are,  the  less  able  are  we 
to  accommodate  our  movements  to  a  complicated  type ;  as  in 
pronouncing  a  sentence  where  the  rhythm  changes  at  every 
word.  We  feel  it  a  satisfaction  and  a  relief  to  fall  into  a 
simple  and  easy  alternation  of  emphasis,  as  in  the  regular 
measures  of  poetry. 


PRINCIPLES    OF    METRICAL    EFFECT.  313 

II.  A  new  pleasure  is  imparted  by  the  regularity  of  metre, 
corresponding  to  what  arises  from  symmetrical  arrange- 
ments in  the  other  Fine  Arts.  Hence  the  tendency  to 
regularity  of  rhythm  already  mentioned  as  observable  in 
rhetorical  prose. 

This  greatly  extends  the  sphere  of  metrical  language,  and 
accounts  for  its  being  employed  when  the  emotional  tone 
is  not  at  any  high  pitch.  It  also  constitutes  a  poetical 
merit,  of  no  small  amount,  in  compositions  that  may  be 
wanting  in  melodious  flow  of  vowels  and  consonants,  as  in 
the  poems  of  Scott. 

III.  Metre,  Ehyme,  and  Alliteration,  being  highly  arti- 
ficial, afford  scope  for  ingenuity  in  verbal  construction,  and 
thus  permit  the  same  species  of  gratification  as  Wit  in  its 
purest  form  of  Word-play.  The  adaptations  to  a  complicated 
scheme  of  verse,  not  to  si^eak  of  the  aid  that  may  be  thereby 
rendered  to  the  conveyance  of  meaning,  demand  a  consider- 
able exertion  of  verbal  skill ;  and,  when  successful,  are  pro- 
portionally admired. 

The  poet  is  supposed  to  choose  a  scheme  of  metre  that 
is,  on  the  whole,  suited  to  his  theme  and  his  manner  of  treat- 
ment. The  propriety  of  this  choice  must  justify  itself  by 
the  effect. 

It  is  found,  however,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  poets  very 
frequently  depart  from  the  prevailing  type  of  their  chosen 
metre.  The  departures  from  the  regular  form  of  blank 
verse  in  Milton  make  up  a  very  large  fraction  of  his  lines. 
This  has  given  rise  to  questions  as  to  the  proper  scansion  of 
these  variations  ;  in  which  metrists  differ  in  opinion.  Com- 
pare Guest,  Masson,  and  Mayor,  on  the  scansion  of  Paradise 
Lost. 

Assuming  that  a  certain  metre  has  been  chosen  as  most 
agreeable  to  a  poet's  conception  of  suitability,  both  to  his 
subject  and  to  the  emotional  strain  that  he  aims  at  keeping 
up,  we  may  assign  conjecturally  the  following  reasons  for 
departing  from  it : — Firstly,  the  variation  may  chance  to 
be  more  in  harmony  with  the  feeling  than  the  regular 
form.  Secondly,  the  strict  adherence  to  the  type  will 
occasionally  be  found  monotonous,  so  that  a  change  is 
welcome.  Thh-dly,  there  may  be  a  conflict  with  the  melody 
as  otherwise  regarded  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  successions  of 
words,  syllables  and  letters,  on  which  depends  the  agreeable 
flow  of  language,  whether  in  verse  or  in  prose.      Fourthly, 


314  VERSIFICATION   AND    METKE. 

effectiveness  for  the  expression  of  meaning  may  require  a 
departure  from  the  strictness  of  the  metrical  arrangement. 

lliese  considerations,  amongst  others,  will  weigh  in  the 
general  criticism  of  metrical  constructions.  Take,  as  an 
example,  the  celebrated  line  in  Milton  :  — 

Better  to  reign  in  hell  than  serve  in  heaven. 

The  first  word  is  a  trochee  instead  of  the  regular  iambus, 
and  makes  the  line  more  difficult  to  pronounce.  Neither  in 
feeling  nor  in  melody  is  it  an  obvious  improvement,  but 
rather  the  contrary.  Whether  it  is  an  agreeable  variation 
is  open  to  doubt ;  the  decision  would  rest  upon  the  view 
that  we  took  of  the  verses  preceding.  The  probable  motive 
of  the  poet's  choice  W'as  to  make  the  sentiment  terse  and 
expressive.  If  he  could  have  found  an  iambus  for  '  better  ' 
giving  the  same  meaning,  he  would  probably  have  adopted 
it.  As  a  detached  line,  so  frequently  quoted,  adherence  to 
the  typical  structure  of  the  verse  would  have  been,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  no  drawback. 

The  fact  that  Milton's  melody  is  so  often  of  the  highest 
order  calls  attention  to  the  many  lines  where  the  quality  is 
undiscernible  or  wanting.  The  opening  lines  of  Paradise 
Lost  are  neither  conformable  to  the  proper  type  of  the  verse, 
nor  an  apparent  improvement  as  regards  melody,  judged  by 
the  most  palpable  rules.  Their  merit  is  the  compactness  of 
the  sense  ;  and,  as  the  construction  is  unusually  involved, 
the  compliance  with  metrical  form  would  be  next  to 
impossible. 

The  three  concluding  lines  of  Paradise  Reriained,  Book 
III.,  are  unusually  stiff  and  heavy  in  their  movement : — 

So  spake  Israel's  true  King,  and  to  the  fiend 
Made  answer  meet,  that  made  void  all  his  wiles ; 
So  fares  it  when  with  truth  falsehood  contends. 

There  is  nothing  to  redeem  these  lines  but  the  thought  and 
the  terseness  of  the  wording. 

The  following  lines  from  Marlowe  would  appear  to 
justify  the  licence  of  beginning  a  line  with  a  trochee  : — 

The  griefs  of  private  men  are  soon  allay'd ; 

But  not  of  kings.     The  forest  deer,  hcing  struck, 

Ituns  to  an  herb  that  closeth  up  the  wounds. 

The  two  first  lines  are  blank  verse  in  purity,  and  are  highly 
effective  examples  of  its  power.  The  third  line  deviates  to 
seemiugly   good    purpose.      After   the   words,   'The  forest 


THE    METRE    IN    *  HAMLET  '.  315 

deer,  being  struck,'  we  feel  a  propriety  in  beginning  the  next 
line  with  the  emphatic  verb  '  runs,'  which  necessitates  a 
trochee  instead  of  the  iambus.  We  could  not  say  the  same  of 
the  word  '  better '  in  the  previous  example.  Moreover,  the 
delay  of  the  voice  upon  '  runs  '  renders  acceptable  the  two 
light  unemphatic  syllables  '  to  an '  that  precede  the  other 
voice-entangling  word  '  herb  '. 

As  exemplifying  the  mode  of  interpreting  the  harmony 
of  metre,  regular  and  irregular,  with  the  subject-matter  of 
the  poetry,  we  may  give  the  following  passage  from  Mr.  J.  B. 
Mayor's  Cliapters  on  English  Metre,  p.  176.  The  reference  is 
to  Shakespeare's  '  Hamlet '. 

"Horatio's  speech  commencing  '  A  mote  it  is  to  trouble 
the  mind's  eye,'  is  a  piece  of  fine  imaginative  poetry,  stand- 
ing in  strong  contrast  with  his  preceding  rapid  business-like 
statement  about  the  claim  of  Fortinbras.  In  place  of  the 
rough,  broken  rhythm  of  the  former  speech,  we  have  here 
some  four  or  five  of  the  most  musically  varied  lines  in 
Shakespeare,  marked  by  slow  movement,  long  vowels  and 
alliteration.  It  is  only  as  Horatio  descends  to  earth  again 
that  we  have  the  double  ending  in  1.  124.  In  Hamlet's 
speech  to  his  mother,  he  appears  as  a  stern  preacher, 
obeying  the  command  received  from  his  murdered  father. 
Plainly  there  is  no  place  here  for  ease  and  politeness.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  ghost's  speech,  only  that  it  has  an 
added  solemnity.  The  old  play  is  necessarily  regular  and 
formal.  Soliloquies,  if  quietly  meditative,  or  the  outpouring 
of  a  pleasing  emotion,  will  naturally  take  the  regular  poetic 
form  :  if  agitated,  or  vehemently  argumentative,  they  will 
be  irregular,  marked  by  the  use  of  sudden  pauses,  feminine 
endings  and  trisyllabic  feet,  as  we  see  in  I.  2.  129-160,  '  O 
that  this  too  too  solid  flesh  would  melt,'  &c.  This  is 
remarkably  shown  in  the  speech  beginning  '  To  be  or  not  to 
be,'  where  we  find  five  double  endings  in  the  first  eight  lines, 
these  being  perplexed  and  argumentative;  but  in  the  next 
twenty  lines  there  is  not  a  single  feminine  ending,  as  these 
are  merely  the  pathetic  expression  of  a  single  current  of 
thought.  Then  in  1.  83  follow  reflections  of  a  more  prosaic 
turn,  and  we  again  have  two  double  endings.  It  may  be 
noticed  that  in  the  soliloquies  III.  3.  36-96,  six  of  the  twelve 
double  endings  consist  of  the  word  heaven  or  prai/eis,  which 
are  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  monosyllables.     One 


316  VERSIFICATION   AND   METKE. 

other  instance  may  be  quoted  to  illustrate  Shakespeare's 
use  of  the  feminine  ending.     In  I.  1.  165  Horatio  says  : — 

So  have  |  I  heard  |  and  do  |  in  part  |  believe  \  it, 
But,  look  I  ,  the  morn  |  in  rus|set  man|tle  clad  |  , 
Walks  o'er  |  the  dew  j  of  yon  |  high  eastiward  hill  |  . 

The  first  line  is  conversational,  the  two  others  imaginative 
without  passiou,  only  with  a  joyful  welcome  of  the  calm, 
bright,  healthy  dawn  after  the  troubled  spectral  night ;  and 
we  have  a  corresponding  change  in  the  rhythm." 


EESIDUARY  QUALITIES. 

In  the  foregoing  discussion  of  Strength,  Feehng,  Hu- 
mour, and  Melody,  a  wide  range  of  Hterary  effects  has  been 
overtaken ;  their  characteristics  and  conditions  having  been 
minutely  surveyed.  These  qualities  do  not  include  all 
literary  excellence.  Nevertheless,  they  are  so  prominent 
and  commanding,  as  to  be  rarely  absent  from  any  work  of 
artistic  pretensions  By  them,  om*  pleasurable  sensibilities 
can  be  less  expensively  gratified  than  by  any  others.  If 
we  couple  with  their  requirements  the  '  Aids  to  Qualities ' 
generally,  we  can  do  little  more  in  the  way  of  prescription 
or  criticism  in  regard  to  style.  Still,  in  order  to  be  as  com- 
plete as  possible,  we  shall  now  touch  upon  a  few  matters 
that  have  not  been  expressly  adverted  to  already. 

THE  SENSE  QUALITIES. 

The  Senses,  in  then-  own  proper  character,  are  appealed 
to  in  works  of  Art.  The  Painter,  the  Sculptor,  and  the 
Decorator  seek  to  impart  the  pleasures  of  the  eye,  in  the 
first  instance,  although  they  do  not  stop  thei-e.  The  Poet 
and  the  Musician  gratify  the  original  sensibility  of  the  ear, 
while  enhancing  the  value  of  their  work  by  large  drafts 
on  the  higher  emotions. 

Under  Melody,  the  agreeable  titillation  of  the  ear  is 
studied,  so  far  as  the  choice  and  arrangement  of  words  will 
operate. 

The  direct  gratification  of  the  sense  of  Sight  is  not  pos- 
sible in  the  poetic  or  literary  art,  as  in  Painting  and  similar 
arts.  The  poet  must  work  by  presc  nt  ng  visible  objects  in 
idea,  according  to  his  means.  This  he  may  do  with  con- 
siderable success.  The  pleasures  of  the  eye  may  be  recalled 
by  language  ;  and  these  may  prove  either  pleasures  of  the 
sense,  or  the  still  gi'eater  pleasures  of  emotion  as  attached 
to  visible  pictures :    for  example,  the  pleasure  of  contem- 


318  RESIDUARY   QUALITIES. 

plating  personal  beauty.  Each  of  the  two  effects  has  its 
own  laws. 

The  same  applies  to  Hearing.  Melody  of  language  and 
metrical  arrangements  make  but  a  small  part  of  the  in- 
fluence of  poetry  on  the  ear.  As  with  the  eye,  the  pleasures 
of  hearing  can  be  given  in  idea,  and  can  have  the  same 
double  character  of  pure  primary  gratification  of  the  sense, 
and  associated  emotional  pleasures.  The  effect  of  music  is 
sometimes  reproduced  in  poetry  ideally,  but  without  being 
remarkably  successful. 

The  inferior  Senses— Touch,  Odour,  Taste— have  their 
pleasures,  which  are  not  excluded  from  poetic  allusions  and 
descriptive  efforts.  A  soft  touch,  a  fragrant  odour,  or  a 
delicious  taste  can  be  conceived  by  us,  and  can  add  to  the 
charm  of  the  object  possessing  the  quality.  Even  the  plea- 
sures of  eating  and  drinking  may,  in  the  ideal  presentation, 
be  so  far  refined  by  remote  suggestion,  or  euphemistic  re- 
ference, as  to  be  admitted  into  the  sphere  of  poetical  treat- 
ment. 

When  sense  pleasures  are  ideally  presented  in  their 
purity,  or  nearly  so,  the  effects  are  designated  as  Glitter, 
Brilliancy,  Glare,  Sparkle,  Lustre,  Eefulgence,  Eadiance, 
Sensuousness.  For  producing  them,  the  terminology  of  pure 
sensation,  and  its  ideas,  has  to  be  brought  under  the  control 
of  the  descriptive  art,  as  well  as  under  the  general  conditions 
of  excellence,  positive  and  negative,  for  every  form  of  Art 
composition. 

A  somewhat  higher  class  of  effects,  intermediate  between 
the  foregoing  and  the  Quality  of  Strength,  are  those  desig- 
nated by  the  names  Gorgeous,  Majestic,  Glorious,  Stately, 
Dignified,  Magnificence,  Grandeur.  In  all  these,  there 
is  a  certain  effect  of  pure  Strength,  adorned  by  the  sense 
accompaniments  of  glitter  and  show  ;  the  combination  being 
more  imposing  and  impressive  than  Strength  unadorned. 

The  pleasures  of  Movement,  as  in  the  Dance,  are  open 
to  poetic  handling.  They  lend  themselves  to  metrical  ex- 
pression, from  their  rhythmical  character.  It  is  enough  to 
refer  to  Gray's  Ode  on  the  '  Progress  of  Poesy,'  I.  3. 

Feasting,  and  its  accompaniment,  Hilarity  and  Joviality, 
are  often  represented  in  language,  as  suggesting  agreeable 
ideas.  The  refined  feasts  of  the  gods  in  Homer,  and  the  feasts 
of  angels  in  Milton,  have  the  highest  degree  of  refinement. 
The  '  draught  of  vintage,'  in  Keats's  Nightingale  Ode,  is  one 


PURE    SENSE    EFFECTS.  319 

of  his  finest  effects.  Scott  is  in  his  element  in  feasting. 
(See  his  '  Christmas'  in  the  Introduction  to  the  Sixth  Canto 
of  Marmion.)  "Wine  and  its  alcohohc  equivalents  in  diffe- 
rent countries  have  received  poetic  celebration  in  all  ages. 
The  effect  is  somewhat  less  gross  and  more  inspiring  than 
mere  food-nourishment,  and  leads  to  the  subjective  delinea- 
tion of  elated  animal  spirits. 

Pope's  'Timon's  Banquet'  is  sufficiently  poetical,  viewed 
as  Satire,  which  was  the  author's  aim. 

The  hilarious  is  also  allied  wuth  the  healthy,  or  mere 
organic  sensation  in  moments  of  vigour.  Professor  Veitch 
remarks  : — '  This  state  may  be  described  as  one  of  open-air 
feeling,  and  the  chief  sources  of  pleasure,  and  the  things 
jarincipally  noted,  would  naturally  be  the  sunshine  and 
diffused  brightness,  the  breeze,  and  the  general  fresh  aspect 
of  earth  and  sky,  connecting  itself  with  a  consciousness  of 
life  and  sensuous  enjoyment.  This  state  of  feeling  is  no 
doubt  capable  of  expression,  and  readily  lends  itself  as  an 
auxiliary  to  poetic  description  ;  but  in  itself  it  is  too  vague 
and  indefinite  to  become  the  subject  of  pictorial  delineation, 
for  a  picture  essentially  demands  vivid  details.' 

The  limitation  is  so  far  just,  that  any  representation 
needs  to  be  aided  by  the  external  circumstances  that  either 
cause  it,  or  fall  in  harmoniously  with  it. 

Hilarity,  as  social  or  gregarious,  has  many  features  to 
lay  hold  of,  in  the  forms  of  collective  rejoicing,  which  are 
in  their  nature  pictorial,  and  open  to  all  the  arts  of  descrip- 
tion suited  to  the  case.     (See  Feeling,  Grerjarious,  p.  183.) 

UTILITY. 

The  Associations  with  the  Useful  have  been  already 
adverted  to  (pp.  8,  65)  as  important  sources  of  Art  pleasure. 
They  draw  for  aid  upon  the  Beneficent  Emotion,  while  being, 
in  the  main,  vaguely  pleasurable.  A  large  department  of 
Literature  is  devoted  to  the  great  discoveries  of  Utihty, 
purely  for  the  sake  of  the  interest  that  they  impart.  The 
description  of  Mining  in  the  28th  chapter  of  Job  (which 
should  be  read  in  the  Bevised  Version)  is  raised  to  poetical 
magnificence,  by  using  fine  sense  effects,  along  with  the 
language  of  power. 

What  is  wanted  is  to  supply  adequate  expression  for 
the  power  at  work,  with  splendour  in  the  accompaniments, 


320  KESIDUAEY   QUALITIES. 

if  possible,  and  beneficence  in  the  results  ;  at  the  same  time 
there  must  be  a  careful  eschewing  of  vulgar  or  unpleasing 
adjuncts. 

Certain  phases  of  Nature  lend  themselves  to  the  mar- 
vellous, from  the  greatness  of  the  results  due  to  what 
appear  small  causes.  These  are  genuine  cases  of  the 
quality  of  Strength  in  its  purest  form.  For  example,  the 
simple  fact  that  iron  can  take  on  two  states,  one  soft  and 
pliable,  the  other  hard  and  unyielding,  is  the  foundation  of 
nearly  all  modern  industrial  art  and  civihzation. 

Again,  the  law  of  the  expansion  of  bodies  by  heat,  and 
their  contraction  by  cold,  is  subject  to  a  remarkable  excep- 
tion, in  the  case  of  water.  When  cooled  to  39",  it  contracts 
no  farther,  but  expands  down  to  the  freezing  point ;  so  that 
ice  floats  on  water  warmer  than  itself.  But  for  this  fact,  the 
seas  in  the  temperate  and  polar  regions  would  be  a  mass  of 
ice,  with  only  a  superficial  stratum  of  water  in  summer. 

Compare  with  these  the  sensational  saying  of  Carlyle — 
'  Not  a  leaf  that  rots,  but  has  force  in  it ' .  The  drift  of  the 
remark  would  seem  to  be  to  illustrate  Nature's  greatness  by 
quoting  one  of  its  least  dignified  operations.  Probably  the 
resistance  to  decay,  the  keeping  of  things  alive,  might  be 
turned  to  still  better  account  for  rousing  emotion. 

As  instrumental  to  Utility,  we  may  take  in  Order,  Ar- 
rangement, Plan,  Method,  Unity  in  Multiplicity ;  all  which 
we  regard  with  pleasure,  whether  with  or  without  the 
emotions  of  Strength  on  the  one  hand,  and  Feeling,  as 
Beneficence,  on  the  other.  Yet  so  valuable  are  these  mighty 
adjuncts,  that  they  are  rarely  left  unappealed  to  in  the 
celebration  of  Utility.  "Without  them,  dependence  must  be 
placed  on  the  multitude  and  volume  of  pleasing  associations 
of  the  miscellaneous  sort,  that  can  be  awakened  by  means 
of  well-chosen  allusions. 


IMITATION. 

The  subject  of  Imitation,  although  in  the  closest  alli- 
ance with  the  production  of  the  chief  Emotional  Qualities, 
has  a  perfectly  distinct  and  independent  standing.  What- 
ever be  the  emotion  in  a  poem  or  other  piece  of  art,  we 
may  gain  a  pleasure  from  its  imitation  of  some  original ; 
and,  when  the  effect  is  attained  in  its  highest  excellence,  the 


THE    PLEASURE    OP    IMITATION    DISTINCT.  321 

pleasure  is  so  appreciable  as  to  stamp  the  work  with  value, 
even  in  the  absence  of  any  other  considerable  merit. 

The  peculiarities  and  the  conditions  of  successful  Imita- 
tion are  most  easily  understood  in  connexion  with  the 
schools  of  Painting.  In  modern  Ai't,  the  imitative  school 
bulks  largely,  as  regards  both  Nature  and  Humanity.  In 
the  Dutch  masters,  we  find  pictures  that,  but  for  their  imi- 
tative skill,  would  be  repellent  instead  of  attractive.  A 
haggard  old  man  or  woman,  that  would  give  us  little  interest 
in  the  actual,  can  be  so  expressively  sketched  by  Rembrandt, 
that  we  are  irresistibly  charmed  by  the  work.  Hogarth  and 
Wilkie  have  familiarized  us  with  marvels  of  truthful  delinea- 
tion of  subjects  otherwise  not  remarkably  interesting.  So 
with  Turner,  Millais,  and  the  pre-Raphaelites,  and  the 
numerous  realists  that  have  been  influenced  by  their  ex- 
ample, and  by  Ruskin's  teaching. 

The  delight  in  witnessing  a  very  successful  Imitation  is 
probably  a  complex  effect,  and  is  on  that  account  all  the 
more  intense.  There  are  at  least  three  assignable  circum- 
stances, appealing  to  our  sensibility  in  different  ways.  One 
is  the  ingenuity  of  reproducing  upon  an  alien  material  the 
exact  impression  of  some  original :  as  in  reducmg  a  land- 
scape or  a  human  figure  to  canvas.  Even  w^hen  not  done 
by  an  artist's  hand,  as  in  photography,  a  high  degree 
of  exactness  in  the  imitation  rouses  us  to  a  pleasing 
wonderment.  Literary  instances  are  not  very  easily 
distinguishable  as  imitation,  having  mostly  some  other 
elements  of  interest  present ;  but  there  is  a  genuine  stroke 
in  Chaucer's  presentation  of  ground  newly  cleared  of  a 
thick  wood  : — 

The  ground  agast  was  of  the  lighte. 
That  was  nought  wont  to  seen  the  sonne  brighte. 

The  second  circumstance  is  the  discovery  of  minute  points 
overlooked  by  us  in  our  own  observation  of  the  original, 
for  which  also  wo  bestow  a  tribute  of  our  admiration  on 
the  artist's  insight.  A  thu-d  assignable  pecuharity,  which 
is  more  within  the  sphere  of  literary  art,  is  the  represent- 
ing of  the  minutest  features,  by  some  ingenious  embodi- 
ment that  is  not  mere  copying,  but  a  higher  or  transcen- 
dent reproduction,  like  the  effect  of  well-chosen  figures  of 
speech.  The  passage  just  quoted  from  Chaucer  illustrates 
this  also. 

15 


322  EESIDUARY   QUALITIES. 

All  this  artistic  power  may  coexist  with  the  production 
of  Strength,  Feeling  or  Humour,  or  it  may  flourish  in  the 
nearly  total  absence  of  one  and  all  of  these  great  effects. 
The  two  alternative  ends  can  hardly  be  conjoined  in  any- 
thing approaching  to  perfection.  Professor  Veitch,  in  com- 
menting on  recent  Scotch  landscape  painters,  remarks  : — 
'  We  should  at  the  same  time  have  greater  cause  of  gratitude 
if  the  artists  in  landscape  would  widen  their  range  of  vision, 
look  less  to  mere  sensuous  grandeur  and  impressiveness, 
and  be  able  to  give  us  the  power  of  the  tender,  the  pathetic 
and  the  soUtary  spirit,  to  be  found  chiefly  through  love  and 
holy  passion  and  brooding  reflection,  in  that  district  of  Scot- 
land which  hes  between  the  Pentlands  and  the  Cheviots — 
the  weird  wilds  at  the  heads  of  the  Tweed,  the  Yarrow,  the 
Ettrick  and  the  Teviot '.  This  exactly  sets  forth  the  choice 
as  between  the  two  aims  of  modern  art.  To  carry  Imitation 
to  the  point  where  it  aids  the  emotional  qualities,  and  no 
further,  is  to  provide  the  greatest  satisfaction  to  the  be- 
holder. For  example,  in  order  to  Humour,  Imitation  must 
so  far  give  way  to  distortion,  which  is  the  essence  of  cari- 
cature ;  while  the  likeness  that  still  remains  constitutes  the 
effectiveness  of  the  work. 

As  in  Painting,  so  in  Poetry,  Imitation  in  its  higher 
flights  is  modern.  In  all  the  three  distinguishable  pecu- 
liarities already  indicated,  we  find  the  most  successful 
examples  in  recent  literature.  For  the  critical  appreciation 
of  our  greatest  writers  in  poetry,  and  still  more  in  prose 
fiction,  we  need  a  terminology  adapted  to  signify  excellence 
in  the  imitative  function  of  art. 

Imitation  of  particular  individuals  is  the  exceptional 
instance.  It  may  be  conducted  from  a  serious  purpose,  as  in 
adopting  a  distinguished  man  for  a  model,  either  in  conduct 
or  in  style.  Most  frequent,  however,  is  the  employment  of 
imitation  in  caricature  or  parody  (p.  242).  In  such  cases, 
the  triple  test  may  be  applied — closeness  of  resemblance, 
original  embodiments  for  creating  surprise,  and  deviations 
with  a  view  to  the  ludicrous. 

Pope's  '  Addison '  is  meant  for  vituperation  ;  but  the 
resemblance  is  obviously  insuflicient :  had  it  been  less  so, 
the  effect  would  have  been  greater.  This  is  the  constant 
danger  of  the  caricaturist.  The  same  applies  to  the  eulogist 
of  great  virtues  and  capabilities;  it  is  the  perception  of 
resemblance  that  disposes  us  to  accept  the  eulogy. 


EXAMPLES    OF    SUCCESSFUL   IMITATION.  323 

The  more  usual  form  of  Imitation  is  to  depict  character 
types.  Tlie  writer  and  the  reader  are  supposed  to  have 
each  in  view  exemplary  instances,  although  not  the  same 
individuals.  Still,  as  regards  well-marked  types,  a  faithful 
delineation  by  the  writer  will  be  responded  to  in  the 
experience  of  a  certain  number  of  readers ;  and  will 
impart  to  them  the  pleasure  that  a  good  imitation  gives, 
whether  or  not  accompanied  by  the  leading  emotional 
qualities. 

Chaucer's  characters  have  often  a  remarkable  basis 
of  truth-like  fidelity,  along  with  their  appeal  to  our 
other  sensibilities.  Thus,  of  the  Schipman,  it  is  said 
— '  With  many  a  tempest  hadde  his  berd  ben  schake  '. 
The  Nun's  French  was  '  after  the  scole  of  Stratford 
atte  Bo  we '. 

Goldsmith's  characters  in  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  have 
alwa.ys  been  admired  for  faithful  personation  of  types,  while 
in  other  ways  rendered  interesting.  Our  great  novelists,  or 
at  least  a  large  class  of  them,  have  usually  aspired  to  this 
excellence. 

Shakespeare,  in  his  characters,  produces  occasionally, 
although  not  habitually,  strokes  of  effect  that  belong  to 
Imitation  in  its  highest  flights.  The  selecting  of  unobvious, 
but  yet  intensely  characteristic  touches,  and  the  further 
effect  of  happy  embodiment,  can  be  found  at  their  very 
best.  His  Macbeth  does  not  come  within  our  experience  of 
known  characters,  and  our  sense  of  the  genei'al  consistency 
is  extremely  vague.  Nevertheless,  we  are  at  once  affected 
by  such  expressive  touches  as  his  question,  on  hearing  a 
prayer,  '  But  wherefore  could  I  not  pronounce  Amen  ? ' 
What  strikes  us  is  the  suitability  of  the  remark  to  the 
situation,  considered  as  an  imitative  embodiment. 

Mrs.  Quickly  could  be  referred  to  for  the  same  felicitous 
touches  of  Shakespeare's  character  drawing.  Where  he  had 
opportunities  of  actual  observation,  he  could  combine  fidelity 
with  caricature  or  other  emotional  interest.  Of  the  Nurse 
in  *  Eomeo  and  Juliet,'  Johnson  has  said,  '  The  Nurse  is 
one  of  the  characters  in  which  the  author  delighted ;  he 
has,  with  great  subtlety  of  distinction,  drawn  her  at  once 
loquacious  and  secret,  obsequious  and  insolent,  trusty  and 
dishonest '. 

Thackeray  has,  by  iteration,  attained  to  the  consummate 
personation  of  a  flirt,  and  has  combined  exactness  in  the 


324  BESIDUAEY    QUALITIES. 

resemblance  with  well-chosen  touches  of  the  other  leading 
qualities,  as  love-making  and  humour. 

Moliere's  type  of  the  hypocrite  in  '  Tartuffe '  is  a 
splendid  embodiment  of  a  character  familiar  to  our  ex- 
perience, and  often  reproduced  in  fiction.  The  pleasure 
of  resemblance  is  somewhat  marred,  in  his  case,  by  over- 
doing the  odious  peculiarities  of  the  character.  Probably 
the  same  is  true  of  Dickens's  'Pecksniff'.  And,  although 
exaggeration  is  not  infrequent  with  Dickens,  his  genius  of 
selection  and  embodiment  of  expressive  points  is  well  under- 
stood ;  especially  for  depreciation,  both  serious  and  conlic. 
As  a  trifling  but  illustrative  case,  we  may  quote  the  inci- 
dent of  some  one  sitting  in  his  room,  while  a  friend  tapped 
at  the  door,  and  was  answered — Cub  id;  a  humorous 
suggestion  of  cold  in  the  head. 

THE  MEANING  OF  BEAUTY. 

As  already  observed,  the  usual  contrast  to  Beauty,  as 
an  Art  designation,  is  Sublimity.  It  supposes  the  full 
reahzation  of  all  the  general  attributes  of  artistic  excellence, 
as  set  forth  under  Aids  to  Qualities. 

First  of  all,  Beauty  is  opposed  to  Deformity  or  Ugliness. 
It  must  realize  an  effect  agreeable,  and  not  repugnant,  to  a 
certain  number  of  our  sensibilities.  In  the  next  place,  it  is 
opposed  to  the  Useful,  as  interpreted  according  to  our 
animal  wants, — hunger,  and  so  on.  To  gratify  these  is 
pleasurable,  but  not  the  pleasure  of  Beauty.  By  a  certain 
refinement  and  selection,  useful  works  may  be  brought 
within  the  sphere  of  beauty,  as,  for  example,  buildings, 
furniture  and  dress. 

The  contrast  with  the  Sublime  connects  Beauty  more 
with  Tenderness  than  with  Strength.  It  is  in  aUiance  with 
quiescence  and  repose,  rather  than  with  energy,  especially 
in  its  maleficent  moods. 

A  still  narrower  meaning  might  be  given,  by  withdrawing 
from  the  name  the  qualities  both  of  Strength  and  Feeling, 
and  associating  it  with  the  pure  Sense  effects  above  de- 
scribed, as  complying  with  the  general  conditions  of  Art,  and 
stopping  short  of  the  special  emotions.  This  is  an  abstract 
possibility,  very  seldom  realized  for  more  than  a  few  lines 
together,  but  yet  important  to  describe  as  a  form  of  literary 
excellence,  to  be  occasionally  aimed  at. 


DESIGNATIONS   FOB   TASTE   AND    ITS   OPPOSITES.  325 

TASTE. 

The  designation  Taste  carries  within  itself  nearly  the 
whole  round  of  artistic  qualities.  When  Fine  Art,  in  any 
of  its  modes,  Sublimity,  Beauty  or  Humour,  is  as  it  ought  to 
be,  it  is  said  to  be  '  in  taste  '  ;  when  any  Art  condition  is 
missed,  the  reproach  of  '  bad  taste '  or  '  want  of  taste '  is 
merited. 

The  fact  of  this  coincidence,  however,  is  a  proof  that, 
after  a  minute  survey  of  the  nature  and  conditions  of  Art 
qualities,  there  is  nothing  further  to  be  said  under  the  ex- 
press heading  of  Taste. 

The  opposites  of  Taste  are  the  failures  in  some  one  or 
more  of  the  general  conditions  indicated  under  Aids  to 
Qualities,  as  Harmony,  Idcahty,  Originality,  Eefinement ; 
or  the  failures  in  the  great  Emotional  Qualities,  as  controlled 
by  these  previous  conditions.  To  treat  of  the  subject  in 
detail,  therefore,  would  be  to  re-open  what  has  been  already 
discussed  at  sufficient  length.  We  must  be  content  with 
indicating  the  proper  mode  of  using  the  term,  as  a  synonym 
of  artistic  excellence.  Its  opposing  designations  contribute 
to  the  expression  of  defects  in  a  work  of  literary,  or  other, 
fine  Art.  These  are  such  as  Coarseness,  Vulgarity,  Tawdri- 
ness,  Tinsel,  Indelicacy,  Grossuess;  Meretricious,  Un- 
polished, Eustic,  Barbarous. 


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